disclaimer: You may or may not find this disturbing. I take minimal responsibility for all bad dreams and thoughts you have from reading this story, and while what I've done to Mr. Wonka seems rather mean, in reality I'm wishing him the best and I love him like a friend.

Charlie was walking on his way to breakfast when he heard Mr. Wonka in his bathroom, vomiting and groaning. Charlie knocked on the door.
"Are you okay?" He asked.
"...no..." Wonka replied.
"Why not?" Charlie asked. Mr. Wonka groaned again.
"Because..." he began.
"Because what?" Charlie urged.
"...what time is it, Charlie?" Mr. Wonka asked.
"It's 8:45, why"
"8:45 AM or PM?" he asked.
"AM...what's wrong, Mr. Wonka?" Charlie asked. Wonka sighed and didn't answer the question. "Is there anything I can do, Mr. Wonka?" Charlie continued.
"I doubt it..." Wonka said. "...well, maybe...but I would have to tell you that..." he sighed again.
"That what?" Charlie urged again.
"I...I can't tell you..." Wonka said, trying to avoid the question.
"Well, why not, Mr. Wonka?" Charlie asked.
"Because you wouldn't believe me..." he said.
"Yes I would...open the door Mr. Wonka." Charlie said. Wonka sighed yet another time.
"All right..." the doorknob clicked and the door swung open. Wonka stood in the doorway in a nightshirt and slippers, sweating a little from the effort of vomiting, his hair still uncombed from last night's pillow struggle. Charlie considered that he might've asked too much.
"Do you really want to know what's wrong?" Wonka asked, pulling his hair out of his left eye.
"If it makes it easier for me to help you, then yes, I would." Charlie said. Wonka looked in both directions of the hall before he shut the bathroom door and held his face against the cold metal wall of the hall. He stood there, silently, his cheek pressed against the wall, searching for the words.
"I don't know why this is so hard for me to tell you...it's only 3 words that I need..." he said, half to himself and half to Charlie.
"I don't care how you say it, so long as you say it." Charlie said.
"...then here goes..." Wonka turned and pressed his back against the wall. "I'm pregnant, Charlie." Charlie's eyes widened and stepped back slightly. Wonka didn't notice, his eyes were closed.
"How did that happen?" Charlie asked. Wonka opened his eyes and started to tell him, but simply said "I don't know...I need to sleep..."

Charlie sat on the chocolate-and-candied-grass bridge over the chocolate river next to his mother.
"I think Mr. Wonka could do with some of your help...he says that he's..." Charlie pondered finishing his sentence, but when his mother showed she was listening he decided that not to finish it would be rude "...he says he's pregnant"
His mother got up and ran out into the hall.

Then she knocked on Wonka's bedroom door.
"Mr. Wonka"
"Yes"
"I was told that you wanted to talk to someone"
"who told you"
"Charlie did." She heard Wonka sigh with relief.
"Come in, then." Mrs. Bucket opened the door at this, then sat down on the bed next to him.
"How are you?" she asked.
"Good, I guess..." Wonka said, sighing. Mrs. Bucket put her arm around his shoulders to comfort him.
"I might ask a lot of questions..." Mrs. Bucket said.
"That's fine." Wonka said.
"...well, here's my first question...how does this situation make you feel?" Wonka looked at her, thinking about the question for a moment.
"Well, good, I suppose...I feel like a little less of a jerk -cause you know the way I act around people- because I'm caring for something...but I'm also worried about what others are going to think if they find out...The Oompa Loompas don't mind, but they're always pretty understanding"
"You do realize that some people are going to find out...and you need a doctor...how did this happen"
"You know how I noticed my first grey hair? I was starting to regret never having married, or having had children...but then I thought 'wait a second, you're Willy Wonka, you have the money to go to a medical lab to have something done about it!' and I did...but they didn't tell me that it could be several weeks or even months before I would notice anything...it was only after the contest that I bothered to read the fine print...and then the realization hit me like a truck..." by the time he was finished he looked a lot happier.

"Well, Mr. Wonka, you and your child seem to be in perfect health...if you have any questions for me later, call me and ask me, if you have one now, ask away!" The doctor said while getting his things together.
"How will I know when to go in for the surgery?" Wonka asked, fidgeting. "it's something that I've been worried about for a while"
"...I suppose...in a few months, if the anxiety gets to be unbearable come see me"
"No definite answer?" Wonka seemed a little shocked. "I'm not that anxious, really...I feel great"
"That's rather normal." The doctor said without turning around. "In a few months, though, the anxiety and anticipation could get very extreme"
"I'd rather not worry about that right now, thank you..." Wonka said, getting up and putting on a jacket. "Oh, I have another question...do you know the gender yet"
"Not yet...but I'll be able to tell fairly soon...keep me updated on how you're doing, and if anything seems off I'll come check it out..."

Willy Wonka opened the door to the chocolate room with an enthusiastic flick of his hand and stepped out onto the candy grass. He inhaled the sweet, wonderful smell of molten chocolate...he suddenly realized that he wanted chocolate. He remembered that it would be a bad idea to have caffeine...but the chocolate smelled so good...he walked out, shut the door, and decided to go for a walk.

He sat on a bench on the sidewalk, next to his show-off shop. He could still smell the chocolate, but it wasn't as strong and tempting this time. He sighed with relief. Apparently, someone recognized him, as they came up to him and asked for his autograph. He obliged. Then a reporter walked up to him and asked him a question that made his heart start to race:
"Mr. Wonka, are the rumors about you being pregnant true?" she asked. He sat there, speechless. He took a deep breath and gave his answer.
"Really, it doesn't matter, and whether I tell you the truth or not, it doesn't matter, because it's my personal life and others will get involved when I say so"
"Can you at least answer the question?" she asked, tapping her foot.
"The answer is yes, yes, indeed, I am pregnant, but you know what? I don't care what you make of it, it's my baby, it's my life, and it's my concern, not yours." He realized he was standing up, his arms stretched out. He turned and started walking home.

As he opened the door he felt the strangest sensation. He stood where he was, blinked, and waited for the feeling to come back, just to see if it was his imagination. It came again, but it was weaker this time. He shrugged and closed the door, put his jacket over a hook, and walked down the hall, his hands folded neatly across the slight bump that had formed over the week. He felt like telling everyone in the factory his secret, but he kept trying to convince himself that it would be a bad idea. He decided he would talk to Mrs. Bucket, his new confidante. He went into the chocolate room, trying to ignore the enticing smell of the molten chocolate. He knocked on the door of the Bucket's house, and turned slightly so that if someone besides Mrs. Bucket or Charlie opened the door, they wouldn't notice his condition. Charlie answered the door.
"Oh, good, it's you...is your mother here"
"Yeah, Just a second..." Charlie went upstairs, some words were exchanged, and Mrs. Bucket came to the door.
"You wanted to speak to me?" She asked.
"Yeah, cause, you see, I've noticed something new today..." He gestured for her to follow. "...we need to leave this room...the chocolate's driving me crazy..." They stepped outside and started walking towards the front entry room, sitting down in chairs. Willy folded his hands over the small bump again.
"So what was it that you've noticed?" Mrs. Bucket asked.
"Well, I've begun to notice that there's a bit of a bump here...and I've started to notice the strangest sensation...It's difficult to explain...it's just..." he sighed contentedly.
"So it's quickening?" Mrs. Bucket asked after a period of silence.
"...I suppose so..." he replied. "Were you ever this happy?" He finally asked.
"I think all mothers were..." she said. "I know I was, and apparently now you are too"
Willy closed his eyes and sighed again.
"I really wish there were a way I could tell you how happy I feel...I feel that if I don't tell you, I might just explode or something..." he said, his eyes still closed.
"I know how it is..." Mrs. Bucket said, standing up to go. "If I may be excused...I have to make dinner..." Willy opened his eyes and sat up.
"That-that's fine..." he said, flicking his hand and resting it once again on his stomach. He closed his eyes once again. "I don't know what you're doing, but it makes me happy..." he said, somewhat to himself. Clearly, he was talking to his baby. It seemed to squirm in response. Willy grinned to himself. "My life has never been sweeter..." he said to himself.

Willy couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned. The euphoria still lingered slightly, he was still so happy, but the anxiety started to creep up on him. He eventually got out of bed and turned on the light. As he sat up he felt a slight twinge in his back. He rubbed at it distractedly. He started looking around the room for a book to read, a puzzle to solve, anything that would distract him from the anticipation that nagged at him. He felt the baby squirm, and he stopped for a moment. He patted the bump, his hand lingering. He got back into his bed, ignoring the twinge in his back, and turned the light off. He simply lay there, stroking his stomach. Eventually he lost track of the time and finally got to sleep.
The next morning, as he got up, he felt a strong hunger pang. He quickly dressed and headed to breakfast.
At breakfast, he received a comment from Charlie.
"It seems as if you've put on weight, Mr. Wonka..." he said, simply observing.
"Indeed...quite a bit..." He said. "But I can't help it, you know that"
"I know...but still..."Charlie said. Willy finished his meal and got up, he didn't particularly want to talk about this. As he walked through the hall, the pain in his back nagged him horribly. He stopped and rubbed it away as much as he could allow. He had to make a phone call.
"So the anxiety's starting to show up"
"Yeah...it's such a sudden change...I could hardly sleep last night"
"Any back pain"
"Yeah...it's pretty distracting"
"Well, I don't know what to tell you...everything's checking out as normal...If the anxiety gets unbearable, then call me, I've been telling you that"
"Well..." he tried to think of something else to say "...well, okay...I'll keep you updated..." Willy sighed and hung up, then sat down and rested his hands on his stomach. He wished he could shake the feeling off, but it refused to leave. He took comfort in the fact that he wouldn't be dealing with it for long.

2 months later, the pacing had to come to an end. Willy's back and ankles couldn't take the strain anymore, so he spent most of his day either lying or sitting down. He had started to fidget with his thickening hair, pulling the tangles apart with his fingers. He spent a lot of time fidgeting now. He spent a lot of time staring at the phone as well.
One day he glanced over at the phone...then he did a double-take. The anticipation was driving him crazy at this point. He picked up the phone and dialed the number. It was a few moments before the phone was answered.
"Hello"
"Hey, it's Wonka"
"So what have you called about this time"
"Ugh, I've got jitters...and they're getting worse and worse"
"So you think it's time to go in for the operation"
"Yeah"
"Alright, I want you to be there in a few minutes if possible, I'll give you about 15, is that okay"
"Yeah, that's fine"
"Alright. I'll see you then." the doctor hung up, and so did Willy. He walked into the glass elevator, sighing and pressing the 'up and out' button.

Willy laid on the table, waiting for the anesthetic to kick in. He sighed and smiled slightly before he blacked out.

When he awoke in the hospice a few hours later, the nurse who had been waiting there looked up.
"Oh, good, you're awake! How are you feeling?" she asked.
"I feel like I've been punched in the stomach..." Willy said, joking slightly.
"The surgery was a total success, and I'm glad to say that you're a proud father...or...um...mother..." the nurse said.
"I suppose that I'm both..." he said, chuckling.
"It's a little boy..." the nurse said, wheeling in a very small bed. "Brown hair and blue eyes, just like you..." She continued. Willy looked at the tiny bed and saw that, lying in that bed, was his child.
"I've been waiting so long for you..." Willy said, stroking the baby's head. He stared in awe, questioning the reality of it all. He realized that tears had started to come from his eyes. He blinked them away. He wanted to be able to see this with total clarity...this little world, just him and his son...