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Wonka's New Tour

Epilogue

Attention: For immediate release.

FACTORY TOUR LEADS TO CAREER OPPORTUNITIES FOR EIGHT LUCKY LOCALS

Last month, Wonka Industries formally opened the doors to its newest factory, eliciting excitement and speculation among the community. In true Wonka style, the factory's unveiling was a mixture of mystery and wonder that culminated in an exclusive tour for eight contest winners. Well, it seems that Mr. Wonka is just full of surprises, because that wasn't the end of it! For the eight young women, this tour has become so much more than they bargained for.

So impressed was our CEO with the ladies that before the tour was over, he offered each of them a full-time position on the spot! Needless to say, the girls all accepted and were immediately welcomed into the Wonka family.

“It was all such a blur,” says Sarah Humphries, one of the ladies in question. “I didn't even have time to go home and pack my bags! But when an opportunity this good comes along, you don't hesitate!”

After signing on alongside her best friend Jean, Sarah has been tackling her newfound responsibilities with admiral gusto and determination. If she keeps this up, who knows what new positions she might find herself filling in the near future?

***

She moaned and licked glistening lips as the lollipop pole thrust back and forth through her cherry redness.

She didn't know how long she had been here for, nor did she care. Days. Months. It didn't matter. Time wasn't important. The only thing that occupied her attention was the long metal pole sticking into her. A lollipop pole for a big cherry lollipop.

The constant back and forth thrusting of the pole, performed by a machine of Wonka's design, kept Sarah in an endless cycle of lust, arousal, and nonstop orgasms. With only that sensation filling her days entire, her mind had contorted accordingly, focusing on the sole constant. Sarah had become a being of pure lust, a round red candy that glistened with sugary sweet arousal.

As this arousal consumed more and more of her attention over time, so too did her bloated body consume more and more of her human features. Her fingers and toes, vestigial limbs of a past life now without function, had continued to sink and fade into the sticky red surface of her body until they had disappeared completely. So too did her hair, clumping and melting in gooey strands that coated her all the stickier and stained the floor red beneath her. Her head had long ago joined her body as one complete shape, her facial features spread wide against her upper body like some obscene Humpty Dumpty. But after time even those features did diminish. First the nose, then the ears. Then finally the eyes, pressed shut against a world no longer hers, sealed away under layers of uncaring red sugar. Only her mouth remained, wide and full. A mouth still well in use, moaning out in ecstasy with each thrust of that singular pole, dragging a lazy tongue along her full lips to savour her own sweetness.

Days and nights passed one into the other, their only measurement from her windowless room the rotation of doctors, caregivers, and Loompas that would enter morning and night to see to her limited needs and monitor her descent. They would frown at her constant moans and shake their heads at the sweet red sugar dripping against the white floor but she was blind to them.

When Wonka was finally called in by staff he entered her room to see her splayed and red and dribbling insensate. Low whines and grunts erupting from deep within herself, mixing with the rhythmic thunk thunk thunk of the pole thrust in and out to create an all consuming cacophony. Wonka himself looked wan and sickly after the events of that tour, but upon seeing Sarah so devolved he reached a hand against a wall to steady himself momentarily.

“Sarah,” he called in a soft voice, then again so he could be heard above the moans. “It's me. Wonka. I was hoping that we might have a little chat, if it's all right with you.”

No response. Not even the barest acknowledgment of his presence. Thunk thunk thunk moan.

“You see,” he continued, “the doctors have been keeping me up to date on your condition. And... and they're not especially pleased with your results.” He paused, searching for any sign that she was listening. “That is to say, we had intended to keep you here to help you, to find ways to accommodate your condition and enrich your life where possible. But I fear we might be achieving the opposite, and... and...” Thunk thunk thunk. He turned to an Oompa Loompa by his side. “Do you think it's possible we could turn the machine off for a moment?”

The tiny orange man approached the pole where Sarah lay gaping and bent down to adjust the attached machine. The pole's movements slowed then stopped entirely and the sound of the thrusts died away. But Sarah's moans did not. Her voice echoed against the white walls. Moans not of confusion or frustration at a treat deprived, but those very same cries of lustful satisfaction and fulfilment. As if the mere memory of the pole's phantom thrusts was enough to set her to dribbling orgasm.

For a long while Wonka said nothing as Sarah cooed and gurgled. He watched that wide sensual mouth bite her lower lip in bliss and he watched the steady spray of sticky sugar staining the floor below her. When he was finally sure that Sarah's haze of lust would not abate and that a conversation was not forthcoming, he turned to the staff, his face that of a man defeated. “I think you're right,” he said. “There's nothing more we can do for her here.” Perhaps on another day he might have insisted they keep her at St. Lozenge anyways, that they not give up on her just yet. But the truth of the situation was undeniable and rooms were needed by those who could still appreciate them. “Let's get her transferred.”

He sighed as Loompa hands closed on that cold metal pole and slowly hefted the heavy cherry lollipop in the air. Her round body slid several inches down the pole's length and she babbled incoherent euphoria. Slowly the Loompas lugged their burden towards the door and beyond. There was no place for Sarah anymore at the St. Lozenge ward. They would need to find a new part of the factory better suited for what she had become. Fortunately Wonka believed he had found the perfect spot.

After several corridors and a long ride in a great glass elevator they emerged in a vibrant green garden bisected brown by a river of rich chocolate. The gooey liquid flowing thick and slow through a trench cut into the edible grass. Wonka and his Loompas walked along its banks, shouldering the grey pole and at its end that immense red orb of sexuality. They came to a hillock nearly bare save for the patch of what seemed to be watermelons large beyond comprehension. Nearly a dozen of them in total, the smallest among them the size of boulders. At the center of the bunch, a melon titan eclipsing the others, its vines reaching into the ground and drinking deep. Hopping from fruit to fruit were small black birds, scavengers testing the rinds with their beaks hoping to find their next meals. Wonka frowned and waved at them and they took off into the nearby trees. The birds had been eager but thankfully the melons' rinds were thick and so the damage was minimal.

At Wonka's command the Loompas knelt and drove the pole into the grass. They held it steady as Sarah's weight settled overhead, pressing the metal deeper. Hands let go but the pole stayed upright.

Wonka backed away, looking up at the lollipop now standing sentinel over the wonka melon patch. From nearby trees small avian heads looked out in curiosity and some brave few hopped closer. Then the lollipop let out another deep moan and the birds took flight once more. Wonka smiled through tight lips and nodded at the Loompas.

They headed back down the hill, leaving the cherry lollipop behind but she was not alone. As she mewled and gasped in her own deep delights her shadow fell over the largest of the melons, that mountainous fruit that was once a woman near and dear to her. The two former friends now treats lost to their own worlds sat side by side on the hill while below them the chocolate river flowed slowly onwards.

* * *

But Sarah and Jean aren't the only two who have found a new home in the factory! Melanie Mitchell, another lucky winner of the Wonka tour, has been given an important position working in the Wonka dairy department. “I've always known I wanted to work with animals,” the young brunette told us. “I've only been here a few weeks and I already know this is where I belong!”

* * *

From her stall Melanie awoke with a frightened moo from a dream that was half-forgotten by the time the sound escaped her lips.

There had been... crowds? A stadium at night. Blaring headlights and athletes charging into each other full-on.

And a girl. Short and thin with long brown hair and bangs. The way she smiled as she shouted and cheered for the home team. Launched by her squad mates up up into the air, she hung there laughing as time slowed. She was a long time in falling back to earth, like a vision sinking into murky depths in a bottomless sea. Sinking, sinking...

Melanie couldn't say why this vision frightened and confused her so, but already the dream was a distant thing as it gave way to the reality of her surroundings. The stall. The pumps. The other cows all regarding her with unease. And that fullness that always came in the early mornings. Her breasts and udders sloshed full of strawberry milk waiting to be pumped from her, teats quivering. They were huge, leaving her unable to move. Propped backwards, those huge sacs of milk pinning her to the ground. She let out a plaintive moo and pawed at a breast with a useless hoof.

The door to her stall opened and a few Oompa Loompas entered. She mooed happily. Morning milkings were the best milkings. They were better than afternoon milkings and evening milkings because in the morning was when she was the most full of strawberry milk. The fuller her breasts and udder, the better the milking. Which was good, because today she felt oh so full.

Melanie saw that the girl Oompa Loompa was working the stall today and her tail swished back and forth above her fat strawberry rump. She liked the girl Oompa Loompa. She liked all the Oompa Loompas, because they fed her and milked her and she loved being fed and milked. But she liked the girl Oompa Loompa especially, because the girl Oompa Loompa sometimes fed her extra yummy grass and sometimes would squeeze Melanie's breasts in a soft and gentle way that excited Melanie very much. The best thing about the girl Oompa Loompa was when she'd sing for her. Some days Melanie would find herself confused and disoriented and not know why she was so afraid, and her moos would be anxious, on the verge of panic. On those days the girl Oompa Loompa would stroke Melanie's snout with a tender orange hand and sing softly. Melanie couldn't understand the words but the sound of the Oompa Loompa's voice always calmed her down.

As the workers walked back and forth affixing nozzles to teats and nipples, the girl Oompa Loompa smiled at Melanie and ran a hand along Melanie's leafy hair. The strawberry cow let out a satisfied snort and licked at that soft orange hand with affection until with a giggle the Loompa pulled her hand back. By this point Melanie was hooked up to the milking device and not a moment too soon. She felt like she would explode if she waited any longer.

The Loompa standing by the control panels pressed the switch and the nozzles began to vibrate. Melanie had done this hundreds of times but was never prepared for that first orgasmic rush of sensation as the strawberry milk was pumped from her body. She let out an outburst of ecstatic mooing, spooking the cows in the stalls beside her, who all as one backed away from her as far as possible. Her whole body shuddered and strawberry juices ran down her thighs. She mooed in time to the pulses of the nozzles, eventually falling into a steady rhythm of simple pleasure. The nozzles suckled against her greedily, thirsty for every last drop of the sweet strawberry milk stored within her. And oh how she was eager to let them drink it all.

In time her mooing slowed and her eyelids drooped in dull satisfaction, her thick tongue lolling out the side of her mouth as the nozzles suckled the dregs from her. When she was finished the Loompas came and detached the nozzles one by one, each one coming away from her with a soft pop. Again the girl Oompa Loompa reached out and stroked her muzzle but Melanie was too exhausted and addled from her milking to do more than give a dull grunt. She would be like this for some time. Now that her udder and tits had been drained, she would be shrunken enough to stand on her own four hooves. Four Loompas gently lowered her forward until her front hooves touched the ground. She was still fat and heavy but she was mobile for the time being. Melanie felt a playful slap on her soft red rump and the strawberry cow lazily wandered out of her stall and into the shining meadow beyond, heavy nostrils tracking the scent of delicious grass. She lumbered in that direction. She would need to eat plenty if she wanted to get nice and full in time for the next milking.

* * *

Some of the tour winners, like Anne Forrester, never imagined they'd find themselves working within the factory's hallowed halls. “I'll be honest, I don't even like candy all that much,” she admitted to us with a grin. “At least, that's what I thought. But after taking the tour and being introduced to all of Wonka's amazing products, I gotta say he's won me over!” Now Anne is serving as an invaluable part of our team as chief taste tester. Just what amazing treats will she sample next? Only time will tell!

* * *

At first there was only darkness.

Anne was unable to see. Unable to move or speak as the mass of mechanical arms carried her to parts unknown. Blind and numb as she was from her transformation, she was unable to feel those arms squeezing and poking and caressing soft pink marshmallow skin.

Oh fuck, she thought to herself, not for the first time since being carried away. This isn't happening. This isn't happening. This isn't my body.

Indeed, her whole body felt so different and alien, like she had woken up in someone else's body. A body that she didn't belong in and didn't know how to operate. That disconnect allowed her to mentally dissociate, to separate herself from the giant pink peep marshmallow her mind was trapped in. As those arms whisked her away, she allowed Tiffany to occupy her thoughts.

Tiffany. Even now Anne could picture in her head the last thing her saw before her vision had gone dark: Tiffany's face grinning at Anne as her changes overwhelmed her. She had done this to Anne. She was the one responsible. She's going to pay for this. If I ever get back to normal I'll--

A mechanical arm squeezed her giant pink breast and she shuddered in pleasure. Wait, she thought, Tiffany momentarily forgotten. I felt that. I shouldn't be able to feel that.

Another squeeze, another shudder of pleasure, this one more intense. Then a pinch on her swollen tail. Then another squeeze, another poke, another prod.

Each contact with the arms awakened numb and unfeeling marshmallow, restoring sensitivity. Like acupuncture needles restoring life to dead limbs, these mechanical marvels were stimulating Anne's overtaxed body in more ways than one.

A metal finger traced the smooth spot that had been Anne's vagina, and the peep jerked her head back reflexively. Wait.... I can move again? She tried to shift her bulk from side to side, and only managed a small shudder. But that was still more than before. Slowly but surely, she was able to move her body.

Her body, she realized with a sinking heart. When she had been unable to move or feel, she was at least able to distance herself from what had happened. But with each passing minute it felt less like someone else's body and more like her own. With each minute, the numbness that suffused her lessened, and she could feel those caressing mechanical limbs with growing sensitivity.

That thought depressed her and solidified the fact that no, this was her now. She was a big fat marshmallow peep. She tried to focus again on Tiffany, but was too despondent to muster the anger.

She was aware that the darkness surrounding her was no longer the darkness of blindness, but merely of a dark corridor. She blinked her icing eyes, realizing that vision was returning to her, slowly but surely. She could make out the outline of those arms, whipping back and forth, and in the distance, a light. One that got larger and larger as she was carried towards it...

The bright light yawned huge in front of her, then enveloped her entirely as the mechanical arms released their hold. Whooooaahshit! Anne tumbled freely into open space before landing with a soft plop into what looked like... dirt?

Anne swivelled her pink peep head as best she could, taking in her new surroundings. She appeared to be in some sort of jungle. Great big trees covered the sky on all sides with their dense foliage. All around her, the sounds of birdsong. Where the hell is this? Why did the arms take me here?

“Why, what do we have here?” an unfamiliar voice called from behind her.

Anne craned her neck in an attempt to get a better look, but just wasn't able to shift her huge bulky body enough. But fortunately for her, the mysterious figure slowly circled around her until he was facing her head on.

“My, you're a large one, aren't you, my dear?”

The man standing in front of her looked like he belonged in a big game safari or something. He had an old-timey moustache and wore a monocle and safari hat. He was also carrying an old musket. His clothes seemed dirty and disheveled, as if he had been in the jungle for several days. At his side were two Oompa Loompas. Um, what the hell is going on here? Anne tried to call out to him, but her lips had sealed into a big purple beak, rendering her incapable of speech. So instead she bobbed her head up and down, hoping he would understand that she needed help.

“Have you ever seen a peep quite so large?” he said to his two companions. “See, boys, I told you our luck was bound to turn around. That green bitch might have gotten the better of us once again, but I'll be damned if I'm not taking home at least one trophy today.”

Wait... TROPHY!? As Anne considered his words, she noticed him casually loading his musket. Oh fuck. Anne shook her fluffy body wildly from side to side. She need this man to know that she was a human. But if the man noticed that anything was amiss, he gave no indication.

“Now,” he began as he slowly poured gunpowder down the musket's barrel, “it would hardly be sporting of me to shoot you where you stand. So here's my proposal. I'll give you until the count of ten. Get as far away from here as you can, and who knows? You just may have a chance.” He grinned and aimed his musket at her. “One.”

Wait. Oh no oh fuck. Anne stopped her bobbing. It was clear that whoever this man was, he didn't care about what she might have to say. She had to get out of here. But how? She was so heavy. She remembered lying on the floor of the factory as the teleportation ray was priming. Back then she also had seconds to get out of the way, but her body was too fat and heavy to cooperate. And because of that, she was in this situation. About to get fucking shot.

“Two...”

Still, she had to try. With all her strength, she threw her weight to one side... and was surprised when her massive marshmallow body responded by hopping in that direction. It wasn't much, maybe a foot or two, but she was surprised she was able to move her massive frame even that much. Of course, she realized. She was no longer that fat woman trapped on the floor. Now she was a marshmallow peep. Huge, sure, but also fluffy. And much lighter.

“Three...”

The hop took a lot out of her, but she couldn't stop now. Not with her life on the line. She hopped again, and again, moving like the giant land-locked bird she was. She had to make it past the trees. Then she could find cover, and... and what, exactly? She was bright and pink. There was no way she could hope to hide. But what other options did she have?

“Six...”

She craned her head to see how far she had travelled, and her heart sank. She had only moved a total of about ten feet. The man with the gun was well within range to pick her off, and even if she were hopping twice as quickly, he'd still easily be able to catch up with her once his count was finished. No, it was hopeless.

“Eight...”

She stopped hopping away and sagged, defeated. This was it. She was going to die a giant marshmallow peep. Who this man was, why he was hunting her, and—come to think of it—what exactly this place was... those were questions she'd never have the answer to.

“Nine... ten!” The man smiled and lifted his musket so that it was pointing directly at her. “Well, my dear, I'm sorry it had to end this way, but take solace in the fact that you will be the pride of my trophy room.” He aimed down the sight of the barrel...

...only to frown in annoyance as one of the Oompa Loompas tugged at his shirt. “Not now, damn it! Can't you see I'm in the middle of--”

But the Oompa Loompa only pointed, directing the man's attention to something to Anne's left. She turned, and saw a huge lion slowly stalking towards the group. As it got closer, she saw that it seemed to be made of graham crackers. For a second she was amazed, before she realized that that wasn't even in the top ten strangest things she'd seen today.

The Loompas seemed nervous about the lion, but the man only huffed in annoyance. “Oh, who cares about one measly animal cracker? Lord knows I've killed plenty of them.” He drew a bead on the approaching predator, only to have the Oompa Loompa on his other side tug as his shirt. “What? What is it?”

Off to Anne's right was a small herd of chocolate reindeer, a rich dark brown, their horns gleaming milk chocolate. They stamped their hooves and lowered their heads threateningly.

The man suddenly seemed less sure of himself. “Chocolate reindeer... here as well? That.... that has to be a coincidence.” His musket wavered from the lion towards the reindeer uncertainly. “We should... we should wrap this up quickly, though. I don't want to be out here longer than--”

His words were interrupted by a loud animal below from somewhere behind him.

“What?” he muttered. “No! That's impossible.” He slowly turned around, and Anne followed his gaze to see a massive green gummy bear amidst the trees. To Anne, there was something about the bear that seemed more threatening than the lion. Surrounding the bear were other gummy animals. Mostly bears, but there were other species as well. Gummy worms, gummy spiders. Gummy crocodiles. All larger than life and looking like they were ready to pounce.

Another roar from the bear, and the animals began to charge forward from all three sides at once. From the left, the graham cracker lion. From the right, the herd of chocolate reindeer. And from behind the man, the gummy menagerie.

The Oompa Loompas quickly fled the rushing stampede, but the man just stood there, his face slack. “She... all them, together? How is that even possible!? Damn you! Damn--”

His words were lost as the animals converged on the man in a swarm of cracker claws, gummy paws, and chocolate hooves. Anne turned away, unable to watch. She still had no idea what the fuck was happening, but even she knew that the man would not be getting up from that.

It wasn't until the sound of the attack faded away that Anne could finally bring herself to turn back. Of the man there was no sign save a lone discarded boot. The animals were still there, though. The graham cracker lion, the chocolate reindeer, and the gummy animals. All of them, she realized with a start, looking straight at her.

She bobbed her head uncertainly. She was larger than most of the animals here, but she would be absolutely defenseless if they decided they were in the mood for a marshmallow snack. The group of animals slowly parted, and from their centre lumbered the great big gummy bear on all fours.

Now that Anne got a closer look at the gummy bear, she noticed a few details about her that she didn't before. First of all, that the gummy bear was definitely a her. Though mostly ursine in appearance, the bear sported two large green human-looking tits. They swayed alluringly as the bear approached. Maybe Anne was losing her mind, but there was something about those tits, as well as the gentle rocking of the bear's hips, that felt almost... familiar to her. When the bear was only a few feet away, she stopped.

The bear was larger than most of the other animals, nearly as large as Anne herself, if not quite as round. The two looked into each other's eyes for a moment, then the bear cocked her head slightly. Though the bear said nothing, the meaning was clear. She... she recognizes me? But who could she--

Then it dawned on her. This had to be one of the other girls from her tour! But which one? Obviously it wasn't either of those two girls who had turned into candy at the beginning of the tour. Nor was it that cheerleader, Melanie, who had swollen into a strawberry cow. That just left four others...

Anne glanced down at the bear's round breasts and pronounced hips, and decided that it was probably the busty girl. Kirsten or Kristen. Anne had admired those hips back at the beginning of the tour. And she was forced to admit, transforming into a gummy bear hadn't done them much harm.

Not sure how to proceed, Anne bobbed her head up and down, hoping to signal that she too recognized Kristen. For a long moment no one moved, all the animals in the clearing watching the two candy animal girls intently. Sooooo, what happens now? Anne thought.

As if in response, Kristen leaned forward and nuzzled her head against Anne's fat body. Anne shivered at the touch of gummy against her soft marshmallow skin, but she knew the gesture wasn't meant to be sexual. It was a sign. Anne was now accepted into the fold.

With a small grunt, Kristen turned around and began to lumber back towards the trees. The other animals all followed suit, disappearing into the dense jungle nearly as quickly as they had appeared. After a moment, Kristen stopped and turned back to face Anne. The gummy bear jerked her head, indicating for Anne to follow them. Then she gave her green butt a playful little wiggle. Was she just.... flirting with me? Anne wasn't sure if it was her imagination or not, but either way she was determined to find out. With a small huff of effort, Anne the marshmallow peep hopped into the jungle, following her new family.

* * *

Not only is the Wonka factory responsible for providing exciting job opportunities, but it's also bringing people together. Just ask interns Tiffany and Giselle. “When we first got here, we hated each other!” laughs Tiffany. At her side, Giselle giggles.
“Yeah, I remember thinking that she was such a prude,” she replies with a smirk. “But, well, then we got to know each other.”
“And now we're inseparable!” Tiffany wraps an arm around her new best friend. “I never would have met her if it weren't for the factory, so I'll always be grateful to Willy Wonka and his tour!”

* * *

From the audio logs of Dr. Elizabeth Parker, Wonka R&D.

ELIZABETH: This is Dr. Parker speaking. Today is... Friday, the eighth of August. 2:13 pm. Earlier today, Mr. Wonka and his crew have asked me and my team to examine some of the fallout from the most recent factory calamities. While he informed me that there were quite a few such incidents that arose during the course of the most recent tour, it was the mishap in the blueberry vault that he was most anxious for us to examine in particular. My team and I arrived on the scene several hours ago and have spent the better part of the day transporting the resulting specimen to our labs, so that we may better examine it.

MARIGOLD: Wow, look at the size of it!

ELIZABETH: Yes, thank you Marigold. With me are my lab assistants, Marigold Fletcher, whom you just heard, and Tricia Farr.

TRICIA: Yo.

ELIZABETH: ...

ELIZABETH: The subject in question appears to be... what can only be described as a massive bushel of blueberries, all interconnected by a series of vine-like growths. Each berry appears to be roughly six to eight feet in diameter. My my count, there appears to be roughly two dozen such connected berries. This is something of a first, even for the inventing room. Virtually every other victim to transform due to the gum's effects have only swollen into a single berry unit.

MARIGOLD: So... wait, this entire bunch of berries.... is one person?

ELIZABETH: Actually, Marigold, from Mr. Wonka's accounts, this appears to be two people. But still, this result is unprecedented. The victims' fruit potential must be off the charts. Now. Our first order of business should be to isolate the two subjects. I'd like to get a good sense of where, ah.... Tiffany ends and, er... Giselle begins.

TRICIA: And how do you suppose we do that?

ELIZABETH: Look for inconsistencies or anomalies among the berries. Given how we know that each subject reacts to the blueberry gum differently, it stands to reason that we'll see some variance among the two victims. It might be as subtle as the shading or texture of the berries' surface. Or perhaps size variance. Or maybe--

TRICIA: Over here.

ELIZABETH: Hmm? (pause) Ah, I see. Very good, Tricia.

MARIGOLD: Why, what? What is it?

ELIZABETH: Look at the movement of the vines, Marigold. See how they seem to be concentrating on this one berry in particular. And look closely, you can see that this berry still has some distinguishable features. The blue pigtails. The swollen lips wrapped around the one vine. And the other opening down below, which has the other vine's attention.

TRICIA: The berries. They fucking.

ELIZABETH: Yes, thank you, Tricia. I believe this berry is one of the subjects. Now, let's get her separated. Marigold, you grab the vine by the berry's mouth. Tricia and I will grab the... the other one.

(Silence, followed by what sounds like the three women pulling).

ELIZABETH: All right, we got her. Let's roll her to the other room for examination.

TRICIA: Look! I think the berry is trying to speak.

BERRY (VOICE ID'D AS TOUR MEMBER TIFFANY): mmubbress... mibbress...

ELIZABETH: What's that?

TRICIA: What's she trying to say? Mis dress?

MARIGOLD: Whoah! Doctor Parker, look at the vines! They don't look happy.

(Sounds of thrashing and breaking glass)

TRICIA: Whoah! Fuck! Look out!

ELIZABETH: Tricia! Marigold! Quickly, roll the subject to the other room and seal off the lab!

BERRY (TIFFANY): Mibbress.... mibbress...

ELIZABETH: Almost... there... hurry!

MARIGOLD: Agggh!

ELIZABETH: We're in! Seal off the lab, now!

At this juncture quarantine measures were initiated, sealing the threat in the primary quadrant of the lab.

ELIZABETH: We're safe. The vines can't reach us through that glass.

TRICIA: No... no no no! Marigold's still on the other side of the glass!

MARIGOLD: Aghhh... Tricia.... help!

TRICIA: Damn it, the vine has her. What... what's it doing to her? Is it... is it undressing her?

MARIGOLD: Oh my god, Dr. Parker! Help!

ELIZABETH: Marigold, I need you to stay calm. Safety protocols have been engaged, and help will be on the way.

MARIGOLD: My clothes!

TRICIA: The vines... where are they...?

MARIGOLD: Oohhhhmy goddd!

ELIZABETH: Oh my.

MARIGOLD: (indistinct moaning)

ELIZABETH: Marigold, are you all right? Can you hear me?

MARIGOLD: I'm... I'm okaaaaaOH GOD.

TRICIA: We have to do something!

ELIZABETH: Marigold, talk to me. How are you feeling?

MARIGOLD: I can... I can feel it. Inside me.

ELIZABETH: Well, obviously.

MARIGOLD: No... I mean... a voice. Inside me... it... (moans)...

TRICIA: Holy shit, look at her ass! It's... it's plumping up!

ELIZABETH: A voice? What is it saying?

MARIGOLD: It... uhhh... (heavy breathing)... it's getting so loud...

TRICIA: Fuck, she's starting to turn blue! The vines are changing her, Dr. Parker!

ELIZABETH: Marigold, I need you to concentrate! What is the voice saying to you?

MARIGOLD: T-to me?.... Me... we... want berry... want berry bitch!

ELIZABETH: Excuse me?

MARIGOLD: Ahhh Dr. Parker! What's happening to me? I'm getting so... so fat and blue... you have to help me...

ELIZABETH: Yes, of course. In a moment. But first, I need you to listen to that voice. What is berry bitch?

MARIGOLD: Voices... so loud... ahhhn... berry bitch is best berry! Love berry bitch! Berrrrahhh, Doctor Parker, it's so... it's so hard to concentrate.. the voices are too loud...

TRICIA: Oh my god, look at her breasts. They're so huge and... and leaking... We've got to stop this now.

ELIZABETH: Damn it, Tricia, do you know how rare it is to communicate with an actual transformed berry? This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and I'm not about to squander everything that we can learn for one--

TRICIA: Marigold! Marigold, listen to me!

MARIGOLD: M... Marigold...?

TRICIA: Yes, Marigold! It's me, Tricia! Focus on my voice. Don't listen to the ones in your head.

MARIGOLD: M-me... is... mary gold. N-no.... is... berry?

ELIZABETH: You're only confusing her.

MARIGOLD: Mary... is... berry gold. Mary berry.

TRICIA: Oh god, she's so round. What's happening to her arms?

ELIZABETH: I imagine she no longer needs them, so her body is absorbing them, as well as her legs.

MARIGOLD: Berry is berry. (unintelligible)

ELIZABETH: And now it appears the berry bush is pulling her into the fold.

TRICIA: Oh god.

ELIZABETH: Hmm, judging from the volatility of the vines, I don't think they're quite satisfied with her.

TRICIA: Is it... is it coming for us next?

(Sound of thumping against glass).

TRICIA: Oh fuck oh fuck, we're going to get fucked by vines and turned into blueberries.

ELIZABETH: Quiet, let me think. Now, when the vines were speaking through Marigold, they said they wanted their berry bitch. The “best berry”, as it were. But just what--?

BERRY (TIFFANY): Mmm... Mmm..

ELIZABETH: Wait. (pause). Berry bitch?

BERRY (TIFFANY): mmmmm...

ELIZABETH: Of course! That's it! Tricia, help me roll the berry close to the glass.

TRICIA: Huh? Uh... okay...

ELIZABETH: There, just like that. Now, you might want to stay back. I'm about to lower the glass.

TRICIA: What!?

ELIZABETH: Relax. Just stay behind the observation table here and, if I'm correct about my hypothesis, we'll both get out of this in one piece.

TRICIA: And if you're wrong?

ELIZABETH: Then I'm certain we'll get to know each other a lot more intimately very soon.

At this juncture the safety quarantine measures were disengaged.

(Sound of vines thrashing)

TRICIA: The vines are getting closer!

ELIZABETH: Look, they're clearly not interested in us! They're going directly for--

BERRY (TIFFANY): Mmm! MmmMM!

(sound of unintelligible moaning, thrashing vines, and spurting juices)

TRICIA: Um... wow.

ELIZABETH: Indeed.... wow.

(continued moaning and spurting juices)

ELIZABETH: This... this is Doctor Elizabeth Parker speaking. It's... hard to describe exactly what I'm seeing. The berry bushel seems to have worked itself up into something of a frenzy, but has focused its attention solely on the quote unquote “berry bitch”. I can see its other vines massaging the other berries, including my former lab assistant. It appears to be a form of self-stimulation. Recent studies have suggested that gum-induced berries possess potent erogenous zones... but is that linked to how they communicate? Very little research has been made towards the “language” of berries, and may be an avenue worth exploring...

TRICIA: Um, Doctor Parker, the vines seem to be slowing down.

ELIZABETH: Hmm, it looks like the berry bushel has reached some sort of climax, and is settling into a steadier rhythm. Fascinating. Note to self: inform Wonka that I require him to send me any future victims of the three-course gum for study.

TRICIA: Uh, future victims, doctor?

ELIZABETH: You're new here, aren't you, Tricia? Yes, future victims. One thing you can rely on here at the Wonka factory is a steady supply of blueberry girls. Which should serve our research quite nicely. Now, should we retire to a safe distance and continue our observations through a monitor?

TRICIA: Um, yeah. Sure. (pause). Doctor Parker?

ELIZABETH: Yes, Tricia?

TRICIA: I think I'd like a raise.

End of Audio File

* * *

For all these lovely ladies, winning a tour of the Wonka Factory was just a stepping stone to something greater. But perhaps this is most true for 22-year-old Angela Peters, who is joining the team alongside her best friend Kristen Martinez. Sharp-witted and gregarious, it seems Angela made quite an impression on our esteemed founder, Mr. Wonka himself. As the tour progressed, so did the candy manufacturer's esteem for her and her abilities. “I've seen many bright and eager tour members in my days,” Wonka reminisces, “but Angela exudes a sweetness and charm that cannot be found in just anyone. When I saw her, I knew that she had management potential.”

That may be the understatement of the year, because Mr. Wonka has recruited Angela in a top advisory position. “Mr. Wonka has been incredible,” Angela tells us. “He's been a great mentor and father figure over the past few weeks, but more importantly he's been a friend. I couldn't have asked for a better employer.”

While her star has risen precipitously in such a short time, it may only continue to rise. Rumours abound that Wonka is grooming Angela to become the successor to the Wonka empire. For now, they're just that—rumours. But in a few years' time, it may be Angela's face you see plastered on the wrappers of a Wonka bar!

* * *

Wonka leaned on his cane as he made his slow, solitary way down the metallic hallway. He found himself relying on the cane more and more in the weeks since the disastrous tour. It seemed only yesterday that he would skip and jump down the hallways, buoyed by his own boundless enthusiasm. Those days, it seemed, were gone. And so he used the cane.

The hallway was long, but he had walked it many times in the past weeks. More than was probably healthy. The trip always took an emotional toll on him. But he just couldn't stop.

Down the hallway he walked, until finally he came to her door. He reached for the keycard lock, his hands trembling, but stopped, as he had every time previous. Though he had walked this hallway many times, he had yet to enter the room. It was so hard to look at her, to see his own failings staring back at him.

So as with before, he stood just outside her room, and began to speak in a soft, shaky voice:

“Hello, my dear. It's me. Mr. Wonka. I thought... I just thought I might stop by and see how you were doing.” He paused. No answer, but of course that was to be expected. “We... we installed Sarah by the chocolate river today. Next to her friend Jean. They... they weren't able to speak, but I think... I think they were happy to be close to each other.”

Wonka took a breath, then let it out slowly. “Sarah, she.... I thought I could help her. At the St. Lozenge ward. I tried to make her time as pleasant as I could. But I fear.... I fear I might have made things so much worse. The way she lost herself, day by day, it... I...” He pressed his forehead against the door and closed his eyes. “I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I... I just want to make people happy. But no matter what I do, it always ends in so much heartbreak.”

Still no answer from the other side of that door. Emotions were spilling out from him now, more quickly than they had in a long while. He sagged down to the floor, still leaning against the door. “You tried to warn me. To change my ways, and I wouldn't listen. I thought... I thought I knew what was best for these girls. But now... with everything...” His lip trembled. “I'm... I'm so lost. I don't know where to turn. I need... I don't know... I need a sign. Something to guide me, to help me get past this. I...” But he could not continue. Instead he lowered his head into his hands, the only sound in the hallway the man's sobs, until—

“Wonka?”

The voice was small, hoarse from disuse, but unmistakeable. Wonka lifted his head. “You're... you're there.”

“Yes,” the voice replied sadly. “Oh, Wonka.”

Wonka wiped at his eyes and steadied his voice. “I... would very much like to talk to you, if that's all right with you.”

“It is,” said the voice. “But not through a wall. I need you to open the door.”

Wonka hesitated, then smiled. “Of course, my dear.” He slowly got to his feet, slid his key card into the slot, and waited as the door slid open with a whoosh!

The room on the other end was relatively small and spare. A bed occupied one corner of the room, a small table the other. Against a wall was a small device with long plastic tubes that led to a tank of blue liquid. A portable juicing device.

“Hello, Wonka.”

Sitting on the bed, book open in her hands, was Violet Beauregarde. No, Wonka reminded himself. She went by Denise now.

For a while no one spoke. Wonka just stood awkwardly in the doorway, unsure how to proceed. Finally he said, “You know, I passed by the St. Lozenge ward on my way down here.”

“Oh?”

“I... I made sure to visit Angela's room.”

“Ah, I see.” Denise's face was serious. “And how is she?”

“Virtually the same as when you last saw her,” he replied, frowning. “She's... well, she's huge and bloated, stuffed to the brim with whipped cream and slathered in a chocolate coating that just won't come off. She's barely able to speak beyond a grunt or a moan, and she can do little more than writhe and wriggle.” He paused, then let out a sigh. “But....”

“But she's happy,” Denise finished. It wasn't a question.

Wonka nodded, still frowning.

“They all are, aren't they? In their own way?” She smiled. “Please. Do give her my best the next time you see her.”

Wonka said nothing for a moment, then nodded again. “Vi... Denise. I don't know what I'm doing. Everything I believed was good and pure has turned out to be the opposite. I... so often I lose sight of my goals. Sometimes I forget why I even started this factory in the first place.”

“You started this factory because you wanted to spread happiness to people all over the world. And you do.”

“Do I?” Wonka said, turning away from her. “You may... you may choose to see the good in everything, and I applaud you for that. But I...” He held trembling hands up in front of his face. “I don't think I see the good in anything anymore. It's just so dark. So difficult. I try and I try to find that lost spark, to rewind things to the way they used to be but--”

“Mr. Wonka,” she said, her voice very close.

He turned, and saw that she had risen from her bed and stood in front of him. He frowned, suddenly unsure in the face of her closeness.

She reached forward and hugged him. It must have been some time since her last juicing, because her body was soft and tender, like pillows wrapping gently around him. For a moment he stood there, taken aback by her affection. But then the tears flowed freely from his face and he leaned his head against her shoulders.

“It's okay,” she whispered. “It's going to be okay. I believe in you.”

“You do?”

“Of course, Mr. Wonka. I always have.” Her voice was filled with warmth. “It may not feel like it at times, but you always do what's right in the end. I know things have been tough, but I also know you'll get past this, and be an even better candy maker than you were before.”

Wonka closed his eyes. For several minutes, the two just stood there in each other's arms, and it seemed like the rest of the world had melted away. There was no cell. No hallway. No factory. Just an eccentric candy maker and a young admirer who had won a ticket so many years ago.

Eventually, Wonka pulled himself away. His eyes still gleamed with tears, but he was smiling. “I... I should be getting back. It was... it was very nice speaking to you.”

“Likewise.”

“I'll see... I'll see if I can get you out of this room a bit sooner than we had discussed.”

“Only if you think it's okay,” Denise said.

“Oh, I do.” Wonka turned towards the open door and stepped into the hallway. He paused, then turned back. “And Denise, thank you.”

The door closed behind him, leaving Denise alone in her cell. She sat back on her bed, listening to Wonka's footsteps echo away into the distance. Finally, after a few minutes, she looked down at the key card tucked away in her sleeve.

“No, Mr. Wonka. Thank you.”

THE END