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Cravings	By : Idolhands Category: A through F > Charlie and the Chocolate Factory Views: 9784 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Cravings
- 2-Part 2
- 3-Part 3
- 4-Part 4
- 3
- 4
Title: CRAVINGS part. 4
By: Idol Hands
Rating: R (for themes)
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed are not my property but that of the estate of R. Dahl, Tim Burton, Freddie Highmore and Johnny Depp. However, my sick imagination belongs to my demons and I.
Warning: Chan/under-aged boy, kidnapping, M/M Slash situations, Dominant/Submissive, messing with mother-nature, a dark but lovable fiction.
Summary: Wonka’s carefully laid plans have backfired and he finds himself at the mercy of his now grown pupil. What will happen with him, the former child whore, and Charlie? However will things resolve themselves?

Wonka definitely thought he had the physics of spinning on his heels mastered. Looks like he might have been wrong about a few other things that he thought he had under his control too. There he was sprawled across the glossy white floor: drained, sweaty, and half-dressed. The world famous chocolatier was feeling slightly less than all-powerful at the moment.
Glaring at Sebastian wasn’t going to help this situation. The naughty little cherub, who had pushed the release button on Wonka’s remote control device, was leaning his head on his arms with a tiny amused smile on his face. Besides, at this point, the child was much further away than the immediate presence of his fully-grown pupil, Charlie Bucket.
The young man had finally been released from the glass tube, which had been confining him. He had also been privy to Wonka’s full-blast version of a sex video, in the Television Room. Charlie’s offenses during the course of the evening, had earned him a shower of ice water, followed by edible Snozzberry oil, and lastly one of liquid fudge. The tall and dripping man was now standing before his mentor’s prone form.
Mr. Wonka knew that he had done a very good job of working, the now well-toned Bucket, into a frenzy of lust and anger. Neither of which, he ever anticipated being in the approximate range of.
His skin had grown as pale as the floor; the glow from the wall of static-filled televisions adding a blue tinge to it’s hue, accenting his extraordinary bone structure. His bright red lips were slightly puffy from the excessive use of Sebastian’s body earlier and his perspiration had caused the opened red satin shirt to just barely cling to him. The wet leather black pants weren’t doing him any favors either, the thick sheen readily stuck to the glassy floor. He was also frozen with panic at the moment. Slightly smeared, heavily shadowed lids kept careful track of the glops sliding off Charlie’s body. His eyes then darted up and looked into Charlie’s complex blue-green ones. The lad’s eyes were more intense than he had ever seen them and locked upon his mentor’s like laser sites on a gun.
Zombie-like, his pupil took another messy step closer. A trail of fluid had been left in his wake from the base of the chocolate bar teleporting device.
“Charlie, HEEL!” Mr. Wonka suddenly announced. At the same time pointing a long, pointed gloved hand toward the young man. He wasn’t sure what made him say it. Arrogance? Wishful thinking? Being completely and utterly without any other recourse?!
Amazingly, Charlie actually started to lower himself to the floor, his stare never leaving Mr. Wonka’s. Soon, he was down on all fours. Wonka was confused, but impressed. Then Charlie took the last dog-like step towards his mentor; his head just above the extended bright red calf-boot with the broken heel.
Mr. Wonka’s face contorted. Any second a slippery drop of oily chocolate was going to touch his…
“plip!”
…boot. His face flinched and he shut his eyes; it was too disgusting for him to even look at. After that Wonka felt an oddly warm sensation on the top of his foot. Immediately re-opening his eyes, the obsessive-compulsive confectioner’s vision, was filled with Charlie’s broad tongue lapping up the offending syrup. Again, Charlie’s eyes never left his violet ones. It was unnerving and rather unlike his usual countenance. Charlie did not stop at the top of the foot, where the black W’s were embossed. He continued to wrap his mouth around the entire pointed tip of the boot, closing his eyes for a second, before staring back at his mentor. Wonka was…impressed. The sensation and visuals were pleasing. His face relaxed into a studious gaze.
Charlie crawled closer, leaving chocolaty handprints behind on the pristine reflective floor. His shiny, lean muscular body was now halfway above his mentors; hovering only inches above him.
“plip!”
“plop!”
Two more drops slid off of his body. Wonka flinched again and made a small, uncomfortable sound. Again, Charlie bent down and licked it up, continuing up the slick material of the pants and drawing himself nearer still to Wonka’s torso, still starring.
“O-O.K. That’s enough. Good boy.” He said weakly, finishing with a minute giggle; a lame attempt to make up for calling him a ‘bad boy’, twice, earlier that night.
Charlie’s eyes panned down the man’s half-reclined body then back up to his fearful stare. He licked his own lips: pink skin standing out in marvelous contrast to the chocolate still clinging to his face. He resembled someone who had been in a mud wrestling fight; it was impossible to tell where the soaked material of his pants ended and his bronzed skin began. It was almost as if he were already naked. The heavy fudge sauce was fast sliding off the layers of oil and water that first coated him.
“Plop!”
A rather large blob of goo fell onto Wonka’s bare chest, the satin shirt only clinging to one shoulder now. Mr. Wonka made an even more squeamish sound than before and scrunched up his face into a painful expression. Again, he felt a broad, warm tongue, but this time it was on his flesh. A thousand shivers went through his being. Apparently something similar happened to Charlie since he withdrew looking rather dizzy. Then he gave an impressed smirk to his perplexed benefactor. Wonka wasn’t sure he liked seeing Charlie with a smirk, those were usually his domain.
The greasy man snaked forward bringing his messy face near the chocolatier’s - still silent, still entranced. Then Charlie took a long, animal-like sniff along the crook of Wonka’s graceful neck. He was desperately tempted to take another taste of the glistening, marble-like skin. Instead, the adult Bucket finally spoke. He said in a husky whisper right into the man’s ear, “You smell like sex and candy.”
Wonka was speechless for a second. Paralyzed in his vulnerable position, he whispered back, “I can’t possibly do anymore this evening.” His voice sounded pleading.
Charlie smiled just enough to expose his trademark dimples, patches of his skin becoming visible. He began to speak again, softly, his English accent highlighting his words. “Oh, but you can do anything. You’re Willy Wonka.”
They were lines the young man had learned long ago from his Grandpa Joe, who said them even more, once the Buckets all lived inside the marvelous chocolate factory. Charlie and his family never knew the hunger of food or sting of winter again, but the young heir learned there were things that one could hunger for other than food. And that winter wasn’t the only thing capable of causing cold shivers.
“No more games, old man. It’s time someone taught YOU a lesson.” Charlie continued, the gentleness of his voice making the threatening words even more unnerving to the confectioner.
If anyone had been looking in Sebastian’s direction, they would have seen an insolent little expression on the child’s face: A look not unlike the boy, Mike TeeVee, whom he had been forced to dress as. This was payback for the waif. He had lived in a state of perpetual fear of the famous Willy Wonka since arriving at the factory under the guise of being temporarily sold to the man. Despite growing accustomed, even appreciative, of Wonka’s sexual peculiarities, it was still satisfying to see the ‘collar’ around the other ‘neck’. Something had told him that this encounter between the two men needed to happen. This madness had gone on far too long.
Wonka stared directly into Charlie’s eyes and swallowed before he said, “I don’t know you anymore.”
Charlie finally gave in to his temptation to taste the man again, this time using just the tip of his tongue. Then his lips brushed against Willy’s ear, with each word, as he murmured, “But, I’m everything that you made me.”
The tingling sensation was traveling all the way through his body; it felt like miniscule currents of electricity. He honestly didn’t think he could have gotten any harder than he was right then. Even the televisions had started to go hey-wire. One suddenly exploding into broken shards and sparks!
Sebastian quickly snuggled deep into the cushioned white chair, somewhat concerned at the effects going on in the Television Room. Only the top half of his little head was visible now, still peering at the intermingled couple.
Charlie finally lowered himself and pressed the slick hardness of his body onto the man. The squelching sound of the fluids made Wonka’s whole body cringe and tighten. He was getting more contaminated by the second! Charlie continued to whisper in a heavy voice, “I’m your heir. The factory is mine now and so is everything in it. It says so in writing. You said I could have whatever I wanted when the time came, to just reach out…and grab it.”
The young man had pulled his head back up, ready to find out what effect would take place when he finally placed his mouth onto Willy’s; something that his heart had been aching to do since he could remember. Surely the candymaker really wanted this as much as Charlie did. He only needed some ‘convincing’. When he faced the chocolatier again, he saw a pained expression on the man’s face, his eyes were like the horizon of dusk; staring so closely into them one felt they could get lost forever in their twilight color.
“Go ahead.” Wonka said. “I deserve it.” A single tear slipped down his right cheek as he said so.
The handsome young man wasn’t sure if Wonka was playing games with him again, but he had never seen Willy cry before. Never. Charlie Bucket wanted to nail him into the ground more badly than he had probably wanted to do anything in his entire life…but not like this. He let out a massive sigh, his chest pressing more deeply into Wonka’s.
“I don’t want to force you.” He said quietly, practically regretting his own words as his eyes focused on those red-stained lips.
“What does it matter?!” Wonka spat out, eyes flashing wildly. “I’m justa’ another part of this goshdarn factory! Justa’ another piece of CANDY to be consumed; another piece of MACHINERY to be used! I’m just an OLD man with SICK fantasies, whose outlived his usefulness!! BUT…at least I don’t break my promises.”
He squinted his eyes in anger and pressed up into his pupil, “So, go ‘head, Charlie Bucket, USE me.”
Charlie had never heard Willy use his name with such a cold tone in his voice. It made him feel sick to his stomach. He bowed his head and balled the palms that were pressed against the smooth, cold floor into fists.
“Argh!” Charlie shouted an angry noise, banging his hands and causing countless small droplets to splatter around them.
Wonka actually flinched, despite his bold speech. Charlie laid his head on his mentor’s shoulder and brought his arms around him in an embrace. Wonka didn’t know what to expect, but he braced himself for the worst.
All Charlie said was, “I love you.”
Wonka’s eyes widened, eyebrows upturned. “Don’t. Don’t say that.” Another tear streamed down his porcelain face.
Charlie continued, “I-I don’t need you to love me back. I mean, I could go on loving you forever, but the idea that you don’t trust me…that you’re hiding things, after all these years…that hurts far deeper.”
He picked his head back up to look into those impossible eyes. “I know you’re in there, Willy; that hurt child inside the man. I’m still here too. But, If YOU want me to, I’ll leave. I don’t need this factory…I stayed for you. For you, I’d stay until the end of time.”
Wonka was completely taken aback. It was the opposite of anything that he was expecting. It was better than anything he deserved for toying with Charlie’s emotions for all these years. How could he not hate him? Hadn’t he done everything in his power to assure that the young man would be at least a little disgusted with him? All he had thought about was how to keep an heir, a partner, at exactly arms length; close enough to learn everything, driven enough for constant dedication, loyal, obedient, but never allowed close enough to get inside the amazing chocolatier’s heart.
Too late.
Large tears fell out of both eyes this time. He averted his gaze from the man and struggled to get out of his embrace. Charlie wouldn’t let go. Wonka kept struggling, getting messier as he did so. “You don’t know what you’re saying or what you’re doing.”
He stopped struggling, closed his eyes, and said with deep pain in his voice, “I’m a monster. You can’t love monsters.”
So, that’s it. Charlie thought. That’s what’s been going on with Sebastian and the factory and all this insanity! The purchased little boy was to keep himself at bay and keep Willy…well, ‘amused’. He still didn’t exactly understand how the factory was tied into Mr. Wonka, but the thing seemed to expand and change at his mentor’s every whim. If the man was convinced that he was a monster, then the whole place would change to reflect it. Hmm, he mused, it didn’t really have that far to go. The Chocolate Factory seemed to walk a boundary between magical and creepy. Usually, so did its owner.
“You’re scared.” He said gently.
Wonka’s looked back at him, mouth open, eyes accusatory, as if deeply offended. Quickly though, his face relaxed again. “Yes.” He confessed. It sounded exactly like a child’s voice.
Charlie smiled and looked into his friend’s glossy eyes, “Willy, I like all of you; the good, the bad, the…really, really weird. I don’t need you to be any different. I want you to share everything with me. Don’t hide anything. I’m never going to hate you. Ever. Even if you killed me and ate me, I’d still be thrilled to forever be a part of you.”
Sebastian giggled at that, then ducked, as Wonka, mouth coiled into a sneer, shot another menacing look his way. The candymaker was grateful to feel the power of his anger again, rather than the weakness of fear. He’d really enjoy having a target to aim all of his conflicting emotion at right now.
“Aw, c’mon, Willy, leave the kid alone.” Charlie turned Wonka’s square jaw back towards himself. “Why don’t you pick on me for a while instead?”
“I can’t.” He said with a pinch more courage, but glancing away again. “You’re my…weakness.”
“No, I’m not.” Corrected Charlie with awe in his voice, “I’m your STRENGTH. I’m the part of you that’s still human.” He clutched his chocolate covered fist to his heart.
Wonka’s face lit up slightly at that statement. He hadn’t thought about it that way before. He tilted his head, starring off into space, “Yeah.”
“Yeah.” Charlie repeated, moving to a less threatening crouching position above his mentor. The tensions of the previous moments released.
They both looked at each other for a long moment, like they were seeing each other for the first time. This time when Charlie leaned in for the kiss, Willy didn't hesitate or recoil, he let him. Instantly, the televisions went off and a few lights in the room flickered on. Sounds of machinery working inside the factory could once again be heard. Sebastian watched them and wondered, was it possible for an angel and a demon to fall in love with each other?
They pulled apart from each other with a soft sucking sound. Wonka reached over and wiped off some of the chocolate on the corner of Charlie’s mouth. He licked it off his finger, exactly like when his heir was thirteen.
“We’re all really a mess.” Charlie broke the silence in the solid white room. The statement had more than one meaning.
“Yeah, I know.” Wonka said with a guilty expression.
Charlie suddenly slipped his arms under the man’s body and lifted him up gently. Wonka was shocked, but not unpleasantly so. How had that little boy gotten so big? When did it happen?
“Let’s go take a bath!” The striking young man said with a broad grin. He headed toward the Great Glass Elevator, his mentor just gazing at him from his arms. Charlie turned to the boy, “Bastian, you poor thing, can you even walk?” There was a touch of sarcasm in his tone. Willy still looked sheepish.
The boy carefully slid out of the reclined white chair, taking a few items with him before gingerly walking over to the Elevator door, joining the two of them. Wonka felt a cold tapping on his exposed shoulder, disturbing his trace. He looked down and saw Sebastian, in what was left of his Mike costume and the shiny black vest containing keys. The child was holding up his long cane. He had been tapping Wonka with the swirled ball on top of it. The boy had brought him the very thing that he had been beaten with. It was another remarkable gesture.
“Thank you.” He said robotically, still very startled by his entire evening. The boy also handed him his previously discarded top hat. Maybe Charlie had some sort of magic too, pondered Mr. Wonka. He placed his top hat on top of Charlie’s head despite the mook. The young man winked at him at the exact same moment that the elevator arrived with its joyful “ding!”
As the threesome stepped aboard the transparent elevator, Wonka caught Sebastian examining his protégé’s pants. “Uh-uh, not gonna happen. Don’t even think about it, ya little runt.” The frail boy did his best to look innocently at the man, who was still being carried in Charlie’s arms. The look was totally wasted considering how well viewed his talents had been earlier that evening.
Charlie looked down at the two of them, perplexed, “What’s going on?”
“Oh, nothing.” Said Wonka attempting an innocent face of his own, equally wasted.
Then he started again, his face looking quite cunning this time, “Just remember, that if you thought yer baby brother was talented, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” And with that, the chocolatier slowly ran his own agile tongue along his smooth, white teeth; continuing to mesmerize his heir, as they whisked through the factory, back to their personal quarters.
Sebastian couldn’t wait for Charlie to find out how complex and thorough Mr. Wonka’s baths could be!

EPILOGUE:
Sebastian woke up to just about the same scene every morning: one alabaster body on one side of him and one slightly tan one to the other. Despite protests from the occupants, he was very good at tricking his way into the room. The child stretched out and looked at the bruises and fresh whip marks across Charlie’s body. He resisted the urge to lick any of them with a little grin (they were deeper than any the child ever suffered), but he did take a moment to trace the scar tissue of the “C” shaped brand above Mr. Wonka’s heart. It went nice with the piercing.
Carefully the little boy slipped off the foot of the bed onto the pile of Willy’s soft pajamas. While Charlie slept in the buff, Mr. Wonka came to bed wearing almost as many clothes as he wore during the day. Sebastian didn’t know why he bothered; they almost always ended up on the floor anyway. He stretched out. Today was going to be a long day. He figured he might as well have a little fun before the odd couple woke up. He scampered out to the living room area.
Charlie always woke up first. Mr. Wonka was NOT a morning person. That was why he had set the time for the ticket winners to enter the factory at 10 a.m., not 8 or even 9:30. Still, they really ought to get started. The bedroom door was open and from outside he could make out little electronic noises and small grunts. ‘Bastian, he thought. He preferred to address the child by that nickname. Something about the sound of it brought back a sense of fond childhood dreams...
As soon as he moved, all the stings of last night came back to him. It took a lot of effort not to make a single sound: neither one of pain nor pleasure. Willy believed that one reached higher levels of mental acuity through pain; that doing so was "most important for receiving divine inspiration". While Bastian’s back had a few permanent marks, Charlie’s body healed up perfectly, no matter how much Willy damaged it. This was a delightful after effect of one of the sleeping chocolatier’s secrets; darker secrets that he had started to share with his heir in the past month.
The striking youth recalled the evening after they made love for the first time. He had been re-invited to dinner, this time WITHOUT his ‘adopted’ brother. The only thing on the table had been a jewel-encrusted goblet, filled with a bright red substance. Wonka was not seated, his hair had been re-cut into a bob, and only candlelight filled the room.
“Drink it.” was the only explanation.
When Charlie didn’t move, the man said ethereally, “If you really want to be with me forever…drink it.”
Naturally he did; it was warm, salty, sweet and thick. It was not like any sort of alcohol that he had ever tasted. Charlie paused.
“All of it.” Came another command. So, he did, every last drop.
“Like it?” Wonka had asked calmly. The dimness of his quarters made his luminescent skin the brightest thing in the room. His outfit was particularly lavish; an elaborately embellished aubergine velvet coat that brushed the floor and a shirt with a high, fanciful collar and matching cuffs poked out.
“Actually, yeah. Was it a new recipe then?” Charlie inquired while still tasting the foreign substance in his mouth.
“No, a very old one.” Said his mentor with great weight. He pausing momentarily then finished. “It was my blood.”
Charlie took a last look over his shoulder at the frightening and beautiful man that lay in the large, plush bed. He examined him in the various mirrors in their bedroom as well. The scar on the man’s chest had been added with a special blue fire, it would not heal away. Neither would the one on Charlie’s rear; he planned to show off his chest a bit more than Willy. A large “W” across his heart wouldn’t have been very subtle. He smiled, then tiptoed into the living room, clutching Wonka’s black and gold robe around his naked and damaged form.
Sebastian was sitting on the floor, surrounded by candy, playing video games with great enthusiasm. He did this while loudly chewing gum and wearing a look-a-like Veruca frock. Charlie covered his mouth to keep from bursting out loud with laughter. The petticoats were especially endearing, shuffling about as the little boy grinded at the joystick and buttons with his petite hands. They were gonna spoil the kid if they didn’t watch it.

Later that afternoon, Willy stood just outside the factory doors, allowing guests to enter. Their was an ominous sense to his presence. Mr. Wonka was also nearly entirely dressed in black; standing like a fanciful crow guarding the structure.
“Oh look, he grew a goatee!” Came the sweet voice of Mrs. Bucket. She was wearing a lovely new dress that her son had bought for her. The pastel color went perfectly with her shoes and manicured nails. The strange fruit on her elaborate hat was entirely real.
“And cut his hair short.” Followed Mr. Bucket’s own kind voice. He was dressed in a new suit himself, proud to wear the trademark bowtie that his son usually did. Mr. Bucket was wearing a modest bolo hat, for he certainly would not want to compete with the candy maker.
“Good, maybe now he’ll look like a man.” Came the disgruntled voice of Grandpa George who was not dressed especially nice, however he was wearing a tie.
The family had passed through the towering metal gates, but still a great distance from the entrance of the grandiose factory itself. They could all swear that it looked more ‘alive’ than usual, yet still quite intimidating. Perhaps Mr. Wonka had added a new coat of paint they muttered.
Grandma Josephine could see him better as they got closer. She was wearing a wonderful red dress and a hat similar to her daughter’s but with more fruits and a veil. Mr. Wonka seemed to like sending them hats and gloves. The striking woman raised her perfect white glove to her face and giggled, “He’s also wearing a lot of eyeliner and the tallest heels I’ve ever seen on a man.”
Grandpa George responded with, “Oh, for mercy’s sake! I swear that mad old bat thinks he’s Lucifer himself.”
His wife, Grandma Georgina proceeded to hit him with her large purse, filled with knitting, for that remark. “You stop that right now! Mr. Wonka is a saint! He made us all young again and I think he’s very handsome! If you want him to keep giving us those Wonkavite pills, you’d better be nice to him!” She puffed out her cheeks as one long curl fell into her face. Her mind worked just fine now, but she was still quite dreamy when it came to her grandson and Mr. Wonka.
Grandpa George just huffed in response, the rest of the family chuckling at their actions. It was always lively when the Buckets were around. Willy thought their accents made them all sound even more amusing. He had deliberately gotten rid of his many moons ago. It had reminded him of his father too much. The muscles of his jaw twisted just thinking about the strict man who raised him to the age of eleven. That was long, long, long ago, but his controlling parent had far more influence on him than he ever gave him credit for.
Mr. Wonka acted like he hadn’t heard a word any of them had just said. His broad plastic smile covered his face and he tipped his hat to them before he elegantly bowed. “My darling Buckets, you all look scrumptious! Thank you for dressing for the evening. How good of you all to come.”
Grandpa Joe had been glowing with pride in his old fashioned, but stylish get-up. He noticed how Charlie’s initials had been added to the grand gates and adored seeing Mr. Wonka healthy, youthful, and comfortable in their presence. There was no one else in the world like him and he felt they scarcely deserved the gifts that he shared with them. “Thank you for hosting us, sir.” He said graciously.
“Pfft! He just doesn’t want to leave the factory.” Grumbled Grandpa George, as Willy gestured them inside. Mr. Wonka was careful to stay several feet away from the family lest he be physically accosted by their affections.
Upon stepping inside, long mechanical arms descended on the family removing their coats for them before disappearing back into the impossible to see ceiling. They all gasped from shock.
“What happened to tossing them on the ground?” Asked Grandpa Joe.
“Huh? Oh, Charlie said it was bad manners to throw one’s things on the floor, so I came up with that. Neat, huh?” He grinned. The arms also could lift entire human being still in their coats, should his guests be less than welcome. Yes, their boy had all sorts of ways of inspiring him. “Come on, party’s this way.” He fluttered his hand and turned back around, swishing down the red carpet.
Grandpa George mimicked Mr. Wonka’s fanciful walk down the factories main corridor until he was severely pinched by his wife. Mr. and Mrs. Bucket just grinned at each other. Admittedly, they themselves had attempted to copy the eccentric Willy Wonka at times. It could be quite fun to dress up as him! Mrs. Bucket blushed a little thinking of her husband in the top hat and cane. She thought he looked much better in the get-up than she did.
Inside the Chocolate Room, their old home still stood. They smiled at that, how sentimental they thought. However, it was also a kind of dollhouse for a certain new occupant. The sprawling room was filled with flowers on top of the usual bizarre candy growths. Further, a large playground and a few amusement rides had been added around the old wooden house. The Buckets were filled with astonishment! Just when you thought you knew him entirely, the amazing choclatier always had another surprise up his stylish sleeves.
“Look at all the flowers! How did you get them all to grow so big?” Said Grandma Georgina while looking at all the large, beautiful, strange blooms. There were blue, purple, and even black-on-yellow ones everywhere. One dare not touch them though, for the long vines were covered in menacing thorns whose tips ended in red.
Mr. Wonka looked right at Grandpa Joe with a quirky grin before he responded to Grandma Georgina. “Why because I’m Willy Wonka. I can do anything.”
“Charlie will have very big shoes to fill.” Said Grandma Josephine with trepidation. Her new trim figure emphasized the clinging material of her gown.
“Big shoes with high heels.” Joked Grandpa George, causing glares from his family.
“Oh these?” Said Wonka sweetly, tapping his shoes with his cane. “These are so I can look into your grandson’s eyes.” He held his stare into Grandpa George’s slightly lined face, attempting to add implication to the statement. His face quickly shifted back to innocence, “He’s quite the beanpole now you know.”
“Where IS Charlie?” Inquired his mother, looking about the many distractions in the room.
Wonka gracefully pointed with his cane over to a large table where a well-dressed man in a short top hat was busily directing many tiny, identical men. The men were all wearing shiny jumpsuits and hurriedly setting up a long table with a bounty of elaborate and exotic foods.
“CHARLIE!” They all called in unison and started to rush over. The young man turned to look over his shoulder: his face in profile, a smile tugged at the corner his mouth, one deep dimple visible. He was completely clean-shaven and his hair was tied loosely below his shoulders.
His mother gasped, “Charlie, your hair got so long!” She picked up the silky chestnut ponytail that fell to her son’s waist. The rest of the family was smothering him in kisses, hugs, and attention.

From a distance Willy Wonka watched in slight revulsion. “Blech.”
“Uh-huh, Wonka fixed the hair toffee.” Responded the tall young man. “I grew this, this morning, before you got here. Willy decided to cut his, but he took the one that gives you facial hair. We’re experimenting before it’s released for market!” Charlie had said all of this quite excitedly, exactly like the little boy they all loved. He was resplendent in a pastel aqua suit, suspenders embroidered with various candies, and a golden “C” at his throat where his bow ties usually were.
“Yes well, throw some your Grandpa George’s way once it’s all settled.” Stated Grandma Georgina, glad to poke fun at her husband’s expense for all of his rude comments. Despite looking more youthful and having darker hair, there was still a distinct lack of it on top of his head.
“So, where is he?” Said Grandpa Joe changing the subject.
“Hm?” Charlie responded, bending down while his mother wiped the lipstick marks off his cheek.
“What’s his name, Wonka’s adopted son.” Insisted Grandpa George with a furrowed brow.
“Oh.” Said Charlie, buying a little time as Willy approached, one arm behind his back.
Grandma Josephine was still facing her grandson, “I still don’t understand Charlie. Why did he do this? I mean, you’re still going to inherit the factory, aren’t you?”
Charlie gave a nod, “Most indubitably.”
Mr. Bucket chuckled, “Indubitably? You’re starting to sound and look like him!”
From behind them Wonka chirped, “That’s not a bad thing is it?”
Grandpa George was ready with a retort as usual, “Not as long as he’s still able to say parents.”
Charlie chuckled and his smile grew broader, “Go ahead, show ‘em.”
Wonka pushed forward a very nervous, adorably dressed little boy. He had on a tiny fancy suit that had both black and aqua accents to it. The sleeves had lace at the ends and a thin ribbon was tied in a bow around his neck. “This is Sebastian. I’m his p-p-paaa,” an actual sound was coming out of his mouth; it was an improvement on the usual gurgles. Charlie emphatically gestured for him to continue. “aaarrrent.” Wonka barely managed to finish.
“Stars above.” Said Grandpa Joe. The whole family applauded! Mr. Wonka smiled proudly. Sebastian hid behind Wonka again, clinging desperately to the material of his black tailcoat. He was petrified about meeting new people, much like the man calling himself his father. He stared at Charlie’s family, they all looked so…young. It was rather startling. However, they all also looked very nice. His eyes swelled up while he peeked out at them.
Mr. and Mrs. Bucket had bent down to study the boy with sweet smiles on their faces.
“He’s as cute as a bug’s ear!” enthused Mrs. Bucket. Charlie’s own mother didn’t look much older than her son.
“He looks just like our Charlie did at his age.” Noticed Mr. Bucket. Sebastian made a shy smile at him.
“PREcisely! Now you can see why I had to adopt him! The poor thing was shivering and starving right outside of my factory, staring into the gates. He has no family at all and looks just like Charlie. How could I resist?” Wonka had said all of this with great drama and exaggeration. Charlie even rolled his eyes at one part, making Sebastian grin again. However, the Buckets seemed to eat up the story with a spoon.
“Besides, Charile belonged to you. I never got to experience the joys of actually raising a child myself.” Mr. Wonka finished his statement while stroking the boy’s chin with his gloved hand. He hoped to make them all feel a little guilty with that last statement.
“See!” Shouted Grandma Georgina to her husband. “He is a kind, wonderful man!”
“Indeed.” Agreed the lanky Grandpa Joe.
“Ahh, why don’t we all sit down and have dinner now.” Charlie said with a nervous smile.
The long table was finally ready.
Wonka and Charlie sat next to each other in matching throne-like chairs. Wonka had placed the boy on his knee. Fortunately, no found the gesture over the top. Rather the family saw it as a sign that the chocolatier had progressed even further. Charlie let out a small sigh of relief.
Among the guests at the long table were the Oompa-loompas themselves; the leaders of each specialized team. That had also been Charlie’s idea, to honor them along with introducing his family to the new addition. Sebastian’s eyes were bulging; he was still adjusting to the tiny people that had been permitted to reveal themselves. He kinda liked it better when he thought Mr. Wonka was doing everything with psychic powers. This seemed even creepier, but the little men all made a tiny smile at the boy. Whatever pleased Willy Wonka, pleased them. He was a God to them; a cruel and vengeful one, that the heathens gleefully worshipped.
“Open up and say ah!” Said Mr. Wonka, holding a forkful of food towards the boy.
Sebastian looked at it and shook his head. Mr. Wonka frowned.
“It’s meat.” Said Charlie. “He won’t eat it. He’s a vegetarian, remember?” Sebastian was petrified to eat any meat at all in the factory. He was convinced that every morsel was a former human being. Willy seemed to forget this almost every time they ate together.
“How sensitive.” Enthused Grandma Josephine. The boy still couldn’t get over how lovely she was for a middle-aged woman. No wonder Charlie was so attractive; his mother’s side of the family was very good-looking! But then, Mr. Bucket had a kind of appeal too. He shyly smiled his way.
Mr. Bucket nodded and smiled back, holding up a glazed baby carrot on his fork. “Mmm, Vegetables! Very healthy, what a good kid that you eat them without protest.”
Just then, Mr. Wonka pulled something out of his coat pocket. It was a very shiny, perfect-looking apple. “Here then.” He said, handing it to the boy. “I found this growing this very afternoon, I was going to save it for myself, but you should have it.”
Sebastian took the apple and gladly crunched into it. Mr. Wonka’s apples were probably his favorite thing to eat! Well, his favorite thing to eat that wasn’t created by Mr. Wonka’s own person. He blushed a little thinking how good the two might taste together.
Again the Buckets gave each other approving looks and mutters. Sacrifice was very parental.
“Are you still sure that you want us to take the boy for a week then?” Said Mrs. Bucket.
Sebastian stopped munching on his apple.
“Oh yes, quite.” Responded Wonka in his usual musical tone, arm wrapped around the boy’s tiny waist.
“I know you’ll take good care of him. Charlie and I need time to mesh, really connect as “partners”, ya know? I found this kid while he was visiting you guys, so we haven’t had a single moment to ourselves.” There was an imperceptible annoyance at the end of his statement, but Sebastian was quite attuned to his Master’s, his “daddy’s”, nuances. It was true that Mr. Wonka worked to keep Charlie and Sebastian romantically separated from each other: possessive of them both.
Right then the child actually tried to speak without being spoken to, but not a sound came out of his throat. He pulled his free hand up to his neck and looked up at Mr. Wonka. He widened his eyes at the boy and wiggled his eyebrows twice.
“Oh. I also forgot to tell you that he’s mute.” Stated Mr. Wonka while returning his gaze to the family. This time he even surprised Charlie who choked and gave a very quizzical face to the chocolate maker, then looked at Sebastian holding his throat.
“The poor thing!” Said Grandma Josephine.
“Hey, I’m liking this kid better by the minute! I don’t have to share my steak with him and he never utters a peep!” Stated Grandpa George in a way that reminded Charlie of his new lover. Willy did in fact give a wide grin to the man in return for the comment. Sometimes he and Grandpa George did get along.
“Do you use sign language to communicate then?” Asked Mr. Bucket, who was as good at learning new skills as Charlie himself.
“Ah, well, we’re still both learning.” Staggered Mr. Wonka.
“I suppose we could just give him pad or paper then.” Said Mrs. Bucket, rummaging through her designer purse.
“Nope, he doesn’t read or write.” The family’s faces got even more sympathetic.
“Oh, Don’t worry, he can hear just fine and is very obedient.” Usually, he thought. Wonka then took a large bite from his plate and averted his gaze from everyone. They went on to discuss all the ways they could take care of the boy in the following week, using lots of hand gestures and raising their voices, despite Mr. Wonka having told them the boy could hear just fine. He gave Sebastian a kiss on the cheek to reassure the child. It did make him feel better. He continued eating the apple and rubbed his cheek, the whiskers tickled.
Charlie was not told about this little development. Both men had agreed to leave the visit with Charlie’s parents a secret; they believed Bastian would panic otherwise and probably hide. He couldn’t get over what a big trick Willy had managed to pull on everyone just then. There must have been something in that apple. That sneak!
He waited until after dinner while his parents were enjoying the entertainment that the Oompa-loompas were providing to siddle up to his friend and lover. Sneaking up behind him, , while he was enjoying the beats and rhythms of the songshe gripped his ass very hard.
“OH!” Mr. Wonka yelped, followed by a peeved look at Charlie.
“You better watch yerself or I’m not gonna let you anywhere near me with that…jackhammer of yours.” He scolded, while peering over at Charlie’s family who were taking turns cuddling a panicky looking Sebastian.
Yeah, that’ll be the day, thought Charlie. Willy took great pleasure in directing him in exactly how to use it: how deep, how fast, and where. “Why didn’t you tell me about that? He’s not gonna STAY a mute is he?”
Wonka grinned smugly, his wispy mustache accenting the movement. Facial hair was a bad idea for Willy; it made him look far more devious than usual. “Only until I give him the antidote…next week. I certainly wasn’t going to risk a SECOND disaster with that little blabbermouth.” He flipped his glossy, black glove in the direction of the boy.
“Oh, are we a disaster?” Stated Charlie in an amused tone.
“Only as paaarrrrents.” He responded wryly. “Look, you know what I mean, I didn’t want to hafta kill yer entire family, Kay? You should be THANKING me.” The heavy eyeliner combined with the goatee made all of his usual expressions even more ambiguous. He finished his statement by poking his forefinger against Charlie’s hard chest.
“Really? Well, I’ll bear that in mind tonight.” Charlie said, unintimidated, he got even closer behind the man, slipping his arms around the exotic, textured leather of the vest and nipping at his neck. Ah, there were those familiar sparks. Short hair made getting to that pale, sensitive neck so much easier. Wonka leaned back his head, closed his eyes and allowed himself to briefly enjoy the sensations. Dozens more of the exotic flowers blossomed with their embrace.
“You do that.” Said Willy, reaching back and yanking hard on Charlie’s long ponytail. If the kid didn’t quit it, he’d have even more nervous explaining to do to the Buckets. This was quite enough for now.
“Ugh!” Charlie made the usual sound of pain mixed with pleasure. He released his…his ‘everything’ really…now. He thought about the statement he had made to the man so long ago when he said that he wouldn’t give up his family for anything in the world. Now, he felt the exact same way about Willy Wonka himself. The constant game of give and take only fueled his emotions.
Charlie rubbed at his scalp, pushing his hat forward into one eye. “Can’t we at least tell Bastian?”
“Nuh-uh.” Said Mr. Wonka slowly. He raised his bold dark eyebrow, “Let the little booger suffer.”
By the time the family left for the evening, Sebastian was feeling a lot more comfortable with the Buckets. They really were simple, nice people. He’d never known anyone like them. Charlie and Wonka stood at the door with one arm on the other’s shoulder, waving good-bye.
“See ya in a week, little brother! Have fun!” Charlie called out.
Sebastian gave a little wave back. Wonka made a ‘shush’ motion to the boy. Despite his current condition, he still felt compelled to blow a kiss to the odd man. Wonka pretended to catch it and noticed that the child’s other hand was clasped into Mr. Bucket’s.
“Hey, he really seems to like yer father.” Said Mr. Wonka with a giggle.
“So he does.” Said Charlie, with slight concern.
“Oh, relax. They’ll be fine.” The chocolatier was still giggling though. The Buckets would keep everything secret, he knew that because they couldn’t even reveal that some of them were still alive. They kept a very low profile. It was part of the deal for getting the Wonkavite. After all, most people didn’t live to be 112, let alone four of them who looked 40. It was interesting how one secret could so easily lead to more. And how he loved being the impetus to them all.
“C’mon, I wanna give you a surprise!” Wonka suddenly shouted and scampered away from Charlie, back into the Chocolate Room, never once using the cane. The old man could still move quickly when he wanted to!
The Oompa-loompas were completely gone and had taken all of the evidence of the party with them. Charlie chased Willy into the dilapidated old house. Inside placed on the rough kitchen table, there were two cupcakes and a medium-sized box with handmade paper and edible ribbon. Wonka took the term ‘ribbon candy’ very seriously. Charlie grinned like a schoolboy at him.
“I wanted us to have a special little celebration of our own. A way to start off our week together.” Explained Wonka.
“This is so thoughtful!” He kissed Willy on the cheek as they entered the house and sat down at his old table. The cupcake and candy ribbon didn’t last long, part of it fed to him. He ripped into the gift, anxious to see what could be inside. Charlie was stunned when it turned out to be his old clothes. He blinked confounded at Willy.
“What are these for? They’re much too small for me to fit into.” At that exact same moment, the table and chair seemed to be growing larger, then his arms seemed to shrink inside his suit. Eventually, he was the exact size of Sebastian. The exact size he was when he first came to live in the factory. He gaped at Willy.
“Surprise!” Came a broad grin.
“Half a pill of Wonkavite. It was in the cup cake.” He stated very matter-of-factly. Perhaps one should never eat anything given to them by Willy Wonka, but his heir didn’t care. Whatever the famous confectioner wanted to give him, he would take, and with gratitude.
“I’ve got a syringe with Vitawonk in my pocket if ya really hate it. I’ve got more candy ribbon too.” Said Wonka walking over and staring intensely down at him.
The very small Charlie Bucket grinned up at him and in an equally small British voice he simply said, “I love you.”
“I love you too.” Willy said hypnotized, pulling out scissors from his pocket to cut the long hair off with.
“Now…put on the clothes.”
~Finale~

REVIEWS ARE HIGHLY ENCOURAGED! THEY ARE THE ONLY PAY-BACK THAT I GET FOR THE INSANE AMOUNT OF EFFORT AND THOUGHT THAT GOES INTO MY WRITING. I DON'T MIND IF YOU ADD ONE LONG AFTER I POSTED THIS. LONG ONES ARE LOVED, BUT SHORTER ONES ARE EQUALLY APPRECIATED.
Here's some doodles and notes from this last chapter: http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a300/idolhands/Cravings4NotesDoodles.jpg
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Cravings