“Behold!” cried Mr Wonka, “The most important room in this entire factory!”
He pushed the door in front of him open and stepped out into room. He spread his arms wide with a flourish and gazed around like the proudest father in England. The lucky golden ticket holders and their families scurried forwards at his behest. The adults stood on their tippiest of tip-toes to see over the arms while the children peeked underneath.
“Oh my,” whispered Mrs Beauregarde.
“Goodness gracious,” muttered Mr Salt.
“Amazing!” gasped Charlie.
“Yeet!” dabbed Mike Teavee. His mother rolled her eyes.
“It all looks like candy!” cried Veruca Salt.
“That’s because it IS candy, my dear girl!” Mr Wonka said. He pointed his walking cane at the marvellous scene before them. “Fields of grass? Not quite! It is my own special mint plant! Much faster than growing it on trees, don’t you think? And speaking of trees, just look at them! The bark isn’t bark, it’s chocolate wafer! And the buttercups are actually butterscotch! And-“
“And is that a chocolate river?” asked Augustus Gloop, clapping his hands to his cheeks with a resounding slap.
“Calm down, my boy, I was getting to that! Yes indeed, that river mixes my delicious chocolate better than any machine in any other factory in the world could.”
“Blimey, is everything in this room eatable?” said Mr Salt.
“Yes, my good man, YES! Absolutely everything!” cried Mr Wonka.
“Everything?” The children cried.
“Yes!” Mr Wonka shouted, stomping a foot in excitement. Grandpa Joe’s eyes flicked to a bit of jiggle around Mr Wonka’s rump area.
“Everything?” Grandpa Joe whispered. His tongue slid over his lips.
“God yes,” Mr Wonka moaned. He paused, shook himself, and cleared his throat. “Ahem, go forth! Delight in my creations! Indulge in my ideation! Allow your minds to wander along with your stomachs in my world of pure imagination!” The children and adults alike scattered like marbles, running this way and that, leaving Mr Wonka and Grandpa Joe alone at the doorway into the Chocolate Room.
“Meanwhile, I might partake of some… well, not-quite-procreation,” Mr Wonka looked over his shoulder at Grandpa Joe who was barely concealing his salivation. His fingers quivered with anticipation. Mr Wonka’s eyebrow wiggled in cheeky condemnation. “It would be rude to deny you any longer, my good sir. Have at me!” He dropped his trousers and waggled his bum to invite Grandpa Joe’s mastication.
Grandpa Joe opened the chest pocket of his tweed jacket and coughed his dentures into them with a muffled splat. He almost cracked his creaky back as he squatted down behind the chocolatier and took a big whiff.
“It can’t be…” Grandpa Joe mumbled.
“But it could be!” Mr Wonka countered.
“It’s not possible!”
“But it is!”
“No one can do that!”
“But I did!”
From his very clear viewpoint, Grandpa Joe could see right in between Mr Wonka’s cheeks. He saw the tiny flecks of brown still clinging to the sparse butt hairs, the result of using only toilet paper instead of wet wipes. And yet, when he inhaled, he smelt the most lovely, delectable, scrumdiddlyumptious aroma of all… Willy Wonka’s Milk Chocolate. Grandpa Joe couldn’t resist. The only thing he had eaten for the last few months has been cabbage soup, after all. He dove right in, spreading Mr Wonka’s cheeks with his knobbly fingers as he gave the most enthusiastic analingus of his (very long lived) life.
“This is fantastic!” cried Grandpa Joe between slurps.
“I’d hoped so,”
“Your greatest creation yet!”
“God do I agree!” Mr Wonka uttered shakily, feeling the ecstasy of Grandpa Joe’s tongue around his arsehole coarse through his body, shivering up his digestive system all the way to the top and causing his teeth to chatter. The wet muscle slid in and out of his sphincter in scooping motions, almost prodding at the nub of his prostate. He bit back a groan, and opened an eye to lookout for any observers. Both parents and children were not paying them any mind. Every last one was stuffing their face. Even the little fat boy, Augustus Gloop, was kneeling on all fours and lapping at the chocolate river. Mr Wonka couldn’t care less right now. After all, Grandpa Joe was enjoying his very own chocolate river right now.
Mr Wonka soon realised that he was mistaken of their privacy, however. He spotted a pair of eyes looking right at them. Multiple pairs. Very quickly, there were hundreds of eyes looking at Mr Wonka’s rump roast lunch. Every single Oompa Loompa in the Chocolate Room had frozen from their work and gazed at the two men engaging in a most heinous anus act in a room full of children.
Grandpa Joe’s ancient lungs were beginning to ask for air and he began to break off to catch a breath. But instantly, a pair of hands clenched his ears and wrenched him back between Mr Wonka’s cheeks.
“Don’t you dare! You need to finish what you started!” Mr Wonka snarled in a shocking flash of anger. Grandpa Joe tried to pull back, but his head was held firmly in an iron grip. He quickly resumed the deed, the air now punctuated by the frantic sucking sounds of him gasping for air while only meeting the flesh of Mr Wonka’s chocolate starfish. Mr Wonka pushed Grandpa Joe’s head further into his arsecrack, pushing his tongue deep inside until it finally reached the lump of his prostate. “You know what to do,”
Mr Wonka felt the tongue rub up and down and all around his prostate, tickling it and teasing it. His cock twitched with every caress and the hot blood of arousal pumped through the veins of his shaft. Grandpa Joe’s lungs were screaming at him to break free and draw breath, but he couldn’t. And yet, he felt his own rod begin to stiffen in his pants. He liked being held like this. By Mr Wonka. Master Wonka…
Mr Wonka couldn’t keep quiet anymore. He moaned and groaned as Grandpa Joe frantically pleasured him until eventually the rollercoaster reached the top of the arch and he tipped over the edge. Sticky mint cream shot out of his erect wang, landing in the grass in front of the doorway. After a number of impressive pumps, it began to droop again, eventually coming to a rest between Mr Wonka’s legs. A lazy stream of candy cum continued to drizzle out and pooled in the top of his pants sitting around his ankles.
The grip around Grandpa Joe’s ears finally relaxed and he pulled back, gasping for air. He fell backwards onto his buttocks and sat there for a moment, pulling in breath after breath and waiting for the beating of his heart to calm down a little. His head hung back and his eyes were closed. Eventually he pulled his head forward again and he opened his eyes. His heart almost stopped with shock. The eyes of over a hundred tiny little orange men were staring at him.
“Mr Bucket,” Mr Wonka gasped in mock accusation, “do you realise what you’ve just done?”
“N-no…” Grandpa Joe’s voice came out with a shiver.
“You’ve stolen from me, you naughty man,”
“I’m a nasty old man,”
“You stole some of the prototype Wonka’s Brownie Butt Batter,”
“I did, I’m horrible,”
“What do you think should happen to you, my ‘good’ man?”
“I should be punished, d-daddy,” Grandpa Joe’s lip quivered, but he wanted nothing more. He had been so naughty, he deserved whatever punishment Mr Wonka gave to him.
“Indeed you should,” Mr Wonka snapped his fingers, and every single Oompa Loompa in the factory, all one hundred and sixty five of them, began to make their way towards Grandpa Joe’s frail body sitting on the stone near the doorway. They marched by the oblivious ticket holders and their families, who were still mindlessly stuffing their faces. “You see, sir, not only did you violate me personally, but you violated the factory by filching its secrets from betwixt my cheeks! And as I always say, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth! You will feel the same violation upon yourself from the entire factory!”
“Oh no!” Came the words from Grandpa Joe’s mouth. Oh yes! Came the cry from Grandpa Joe’s heart.
The Oompa Loompas formed a queue that began behind the old man and stretched in a big squiggly line that wound its way across the Chocolate Room, in between the single-minded visitors gorging themselves on the environmental edibles surrounding them, and finally ending back near Grandpa Joe. He was boxed in. He wasn’t leaving until they were finished with him. He felt unusually strong hands wrap under his armpits and lift him upwards before he was deposited onto his knees. A palm pressed into his back and pushed him forwards onto his hands. Another set of hands wrapped around his waist and swiftly unbuckled his belt, while yet another tugged his pants downwards and then forcefully pulled them completely off his legs. Grandpa Joe felt his knees clatter against the stone and instinctively tried to pull himself up but his underwear went next, taking his legs out again. He lay there with his half erect pecker pressed against the cold stone, bare arsed and begging silently in his head.
Strong gloved hands grabbed his waist and pulled him up onto his knees again, but before he could adjust himself further he felt a slippery wet tongue press up against his tight inverted button. The tip breached Grandpa Joe and started licking around the entrance to his rectum. The grandfather gasped in pleasure. For a few moments this went on before the tongue retreated from inside him. Puzzled, Grandpa Joe started to look around before he felt the unmistakeable head of a cock press against his slick hole. The hands around his waist pulled him backwards and the Oompa Loompa buried itself hilt deep in Grandpa Joe’s boypussy. Five rock hard inches of flesh slid effortlessly into his anal canal, sending sensual waves pulsing through his body. Grandpa Joe gasped and tried to grit his teeth before he remembered that his dentures were still in his chest pocket. His gums squelched together in rhythm with the squelching going on in his backdoor.
Grandpa Joe couldn’t keep track of the time. He felt like it might never end. He hoped it would never end. In and out, without fail. The Oompa Loompa behind him never faltered in his stride. In fact, the only way he realised that a new one had taken over was the sudden change in dryness of the meat pipe that plumbed him and soon became slick like before. Grandpa Joe brought his head up with what little strength he could muster and saw Mr Wonka shepherding the children and their parents onto a boat. Not even Charlie looked back. Good, Grandpa Joe thought, I’d hate for him to see me like this. Mr Wonka turned and looked at the helpless man bent on all fours. Their eyes met and Grandpa Joe felt that tingle in his stomach. Mr Wonka winked and mouthed the words:
“I’ll be back for you.” He turned back to his visitors on the boat and cleared his throat. “Come now, let’s not tarry, but let’s not hurry, no one ever enjoyed anything in a hurry but no one ever got anywhere by tarrying too long.” The boat began to flow down the chocolate river, and eventually passed into the dark tunnel at the end, just as a new Oompa Loompa passed into Grandpa Joe’s. His arms gave way as he gave himself into the nigh endless pleasures being thrust upon him. This moment, this hour, this day was better than he could ever have dreamed of, in his entire imagination.