Disclaimer: I don't own Charlie and the Chocolate factory in any way. If I did, I would be a genius as both Roald Dahl and Tim Butron are.
"You think that he's smart, but he's an idiot! But I'm not." Mike blurted out. He was tired of all these people thinking this freak was so amazing, like he was a god or something. Wonka had invented a teleported, but didn't even consider the benefits for humankind. Well, Mike was determined to show him.
He ran toward the machine, shoving a couple of those freaky Oompa Lompas out of the way.
"Hey little boy…? Don't push my button." came Wonka's stupid voice. He ignored it and he jumped on the button and dived into the machine. Everyone watched in horror as Mike felt himself lifted off of the floor. He did a few poses, enjoying himself. As if by magic, he suddenly disappeared. It was a strange feeling, being transported through the air. He landed finally by what looked like a news broadcast. He was slightly disoriented.
Mike heard music coming, as if from nowhere. Oh no, Mike thought, another stupid song. He hated how every time the Oompa Lompas sang, something horrible had just happened to one of the kids, whether it be going up a pipe, down a garbage chute, or turning into a blueberry. He hated how Wonka had enjoyed every minute of it. Sadistic freak, thought Mike. He had the sneaking suspicion that something awful was going to happen to him too. He was genuinely scared, something that rarely happened, if ever. As the Oompa Lompas attacked, he was helpless to do anything.
Finally he was crushed by the newscaster's papers. He was sure that every bone in his body was broken.
"Eww, somebody grab him," came Wonka's voice, who looked like he was enjoying torturing all the kids. Mike cursed under his breath.
"Help me!" Mike yelled in desperation.
"Well, what will we do?!" asked Mr. Teavee.
"Well, young boys are incredibly springy…" said Wonka, "I know! We'll put him in the taffy puller."
Mike flinched. Was he serious? Did Wonka actually intend to stretch Mike out on a taffy puller? Being stretched on a machine used to make useless candy, it was like his worst nightmare.
"Taffy puller!" gasped Mr. Teavee in disbelief.
"Hey," Wonka said with a pout, "that was my idea." Than he gave a little giggle. He called for one of the stupid Ooma Lompas. "Take Mr. Teavee and his… boy… to the taffy puller and stretch him out. K?"
Mike felt himself being picked up and carried. He was carried through endlessly pointless hallways, that led to equally pointless rooms, where there was made equally pointless candy. Finally, they arrived in a room that looked like a medieval dungeon. Mike actually started crying, something he hadn't done in a long time. Two Oompa Lompas were already in the room holding torches. Both of them had black hoods on. The Oompa Lompa who had escorted Mr. Teavee to the room picked up a black hood from a table and put it on. There was not a trace of candy in the entire room, only a table with handcuffs and machinery.
Mike realized what was going to happen, but it was to late. He struggled and kicked, but to no avail. He was to small to do anything. Mr. Teavee was turning a nice shade of lime green.
The Oompa Lompas grabbed Mike and pressed him down onto the rack. Mike tried to scream for help, but no words came out, only tears. He had never felt so scared or alone in his life. He felt the Oompa Lompas shakle his feet and hands to the handcuffs. The Oompa Lompas did a strange tribal dance of victory, and communicated quickly in their hand language. When they finally stopped, they went to their places. One went to the front of the table, one to the back, and the last to the side to make sure everything went as planned.
As the cranks started pulling, Mike felt his arms and feet being pulled, they felt like they would rip out of their sockets. He was determined to not let the pain get to him, even as tears were running down his face. Mr. Teavee was horrified. He couldn't do anything to help his son. He knew that it had to be done, but there must be some other way, right?
After awhile, Mike couldn't take it anymore. As tears rolled down his face, he screamed. He screamed louder and louder as his torture grew. Mr. Teavee couldn't handle it, and he left the room. When he did so, Mike was heartbroken. His parent, the one that was supposed to care about him had abandoned him. His screams grew louder, his tears came faster. Suddenly, he screamed "Charlie!" and he saw no more.
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When Mike awoke, he was in the entrance hall. His dad was pale, and for some reason, looked a heck of a lot shorter. In fact, everyone in that room looked a heck of a lot shorter. He saw the other kids and wondered what kind of tortures they had had to endure. Couldn't have been worse than mine, thought Mike. He had been stretched on a medieval torture rack and now was tall, as far as he could tell. He must be at least 7 feet or maybe 8! He was skinny too, he could have been a walking twig. He felt like a freak.
He remembered himself callout the name, Charlie. He wondered why that could possibly by. Mabye it was because he really did like the boy. After all he did have lovely black hair and beautiful blue eyes. No! He dismissed the thoughts from his mind as he thought them. He wasn't going to "like" anyone, that's for sure. That whole romance crap was for stupid people at school who had nothing better to do than gossip about who was dating who. It was all too shallow for Mike. Besides, what would his dad think of him liking another boy. Speaking of his dad, Mike remembered his dad leaving him alone in that torture room and glared at him. He mentally told himself to never forgive his dad for that.
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While in the glass elevator above the factory, Charlie watched the kids walking out of the factory. He hated how they had to go through so much needless torture. He wanted to do something to help them. He wanted to do something to help him. That boy that he liked. He seemed to be the nicest of the other kids that came in. Charlie had been fascinated by him ever since he had seen him on tv. Charlie vowed to help him. Mike Teavee.
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As Mike and his dad left the factory, Mr. Teavee turned to his son and said, "Mike… I…"
"Let's just go," Mike interrupted, knowing full well that his dad was scared and disturbed at Mike's, well, condition. Mike couldn't bear to here anything his father might say, he just wanted to go home to his tv and video game and forget everything as he always did. Whenever Mike was sad or angry, he would play his video games. They calmed his nerves and helped him forget his problems, at least for a little while. He would be glad when he had the controller in his hands once again.
A/N: So this is my first fic ever. Woot. I hope you liked it, if not, well oh well. I hope it wasn't so terrible. This will indeed eventually become a Charlie/Mike slash.