The following is an editorial breaking down the trope of the Factory Tour and discusses the many iterations of said trope, along with its appeal. This is a body inflation/transformation related piece with examples, along with an original scenario, so do not read if it does not appeal to you, or you do not want to learn about this cornerstone of the Inflation community.
In all of inflation fiction, whether it be in the realms of art or literature, arguably the most often used scenario is the factory tour, and for good reason.
The reasons for why people develop an inflation fetish in the first place can vary widely, but one of the more common reasons why many have a variation of said fetish is because they watched Willy Wonka at a formative age, and the scene with Violet Beauregard stuck with them. They then developed a fascination, or possibly obsession, with said scene, and then other inflation related scenes in popular (or lesser known) media, which one day turned into a full blown fetish. I know I did. I'm not sure Roald Dahl had any idea what kind of profound effect Charlie and the Chocolate Factory would have on the lives of people around the world, especially with a scene where a girl's punishment far exceeds her crime, but one can't argue with the results. That said, this iconic scene, and the scenario in which it resides, has become a cornerstone of blueberry inflation related media, and the factory tour itself has become a framework for various fetish stories, including (commonly) both inflation and forms of transformation.
The factory tour fantasy/scenario is rather straight-forward, although it does have numerous variations. Most often the scenario boils down to a group of various lucky winners that get to go on a tour of a magical factory. During the tour, one by one, each contestant (and possibly their guest too, if they have one) goes through some sort of scenario where they are unable to continue on with the rest of the group on the tour. Depending on the focus of the scenario, what happens to everyone else might not even be a factor. As, more often than not, the scenario focuses on Violet or the Violet stand-in, who almost always without fail turns into a huge juicy human blueberry as the rest of the tour group watches. In many cases this inflation is then followed by additional humiliation in the form of the Oompa Loompas, or their equivalents, singing and/or further humiliating the berry in question before they are rolled off to be juiced and/or popped. Or, in some cases, to meet some kind of "nefarious" end that might involve being kept a blueberry permanently at the factory.
Now by this point the factory tour has almost become a trope in terms of inflation fiction. It is a classic scenario... and an overdone one at that. It is both a staple of unoriginal creators (or those that are just starting out) and highly inventive/imaginative creators. The latter will try to put their own spin on the scenario, keeping the framework of the factory tour and building up it with (hopefully) new ideas and possibilities that the factory and its nigh magical nature can provide. I, despite myself, am always still excited to find writers or artists doing something original with this trope. But this isn't the first category of examples that I'm going to talk about. The first category belongs to the broad category of fanfiction.
For many, Violet Beuregarde is the patron mother of body inflation, or at least blueberry inflation, as it originates with the iconic scene that she is known for. A vast majority of Willy Wonka/Charlie and the Chocolate Factory fanfiction revolves around Violet and her ordeal. At the most unoriginal, I have seen one for one depictions of Violet's scenes, with no real redeeming nature to them, as they might as well be considered works of plagiarism (sometimes with the only thing different being that Violet is of consenting age, which is a blessedly common theme). Thankfully these highly unoriginal examples are rather uncommon. After these comes the more common "what happens next?" or "what if?" scenarios. These tend to focus on Violet after she is rolled away by the Oompa Loompas, and how she is juiced. Examples of these are generally not always worth mentioning (with the only things deviating from the original scene being Violet's age and the level of risque nature of her juicing), although the artist Faidae’s has a yet-to-be completed comic series of how the 1970's Violet was juiced. Continuing in this theme comes stories that involve Violet's mother from the 2005 Charlie & The Chocolate Factory movie. In these Mrs Beauregard, through some kind of contrivance, joins her daughter as a blueberry. Sometimes she's the one to chew the coveted Three-Course gum in the first place, swapping the roles of mother and daughter, or she joins Violet after the original berrygirl is rolled away. Some of these can be entertaining, while others are just plain garbage. A prime example of this is a Violet choose-your-own fetishy adventure story on Writing.com, in which it is clear someone who was possibly 12 or 13 years old wrote entries where Violet and her mother do various fetishy things in ways that are ENTIRELY outside of their characters.
Next in the "what if-?" category comes scenarios where Veruca Salt actually gets what's coming to her. Let's tangent for just a second to discuss the severity of punishments Violet and Veruca endure in popular culture. For being somewhat obnoxious and/or prideful (depending on the depiction) and ignoring warnings to not chew the gum and to spit it out, Violet is turned into a blueberry, and in the cases of the stage plays/musicals, bursts. For essentially being a kid, Violet is humiliated, and then dies for it. Veruca on the other hand, for being an utter brat and future bane upon humanity, generally gets covered in garbage, and gets a little singed. Even in the Gene Wilder Willy Wonka, their punishments seemed widely disproportionate. Which is why in the "what ifs" we have instances where Veruca gets turned into a blueberry instead, or her punishment is far more proportionate with Violet's. One example, weeb-lord’s “I want it now!” has Veruca get a variety of pastries stuffed in her, followed by cake batter and cookie dough as she’s turned into a giant round pastry.
Now, staying within the category of fanfiction, we have the "what ifs" that come after the original tale comes to a close. Now since this is focused on the factory scenario, we wont dwell on these long. More often than not you have stories where Violet is trying to fit in again after being turned permanently blue, and how she deals with other people afterwards. Once again focusing on Violet comes stories where she is invited back to the factory by Charlie years later, and can be boiled down to being love stories with blueberry inflation in them. Switching focus over to Charlie, we have a category of stories that involve Charlie as an adult who has developed an inflation fetish after watching Violet get turned into a blueberry, and now turns dates he takes to the factory into berries or balloons. Another example that I particularly enjoy is where Charlie deals with federal employees and pains in his butt who come to his factory, and who all meet fetishy ends. This was actually one of the earliest examples I read of an author really doing something new and original with this material, and has stuck with me ever since. Then there are the sort of quasi-sequels, which tie in to a degree to the original source material. The best of these I've read, and that deserves to be read is b-ridge's Wonka's New Tour series, which is self explanatory in title alone, and comes with a number of excellent transformations, along with a superb ending! Finally after these you have stories that are tangentially connected to Willy Wonka, if only to have a reason for someone to inflate (i.e. they're Violet's daughter and now randomly inflate with juice because her parents had sex while her mom was a blueberry), so I'm not going to really focus on those.
And at long last we have the far more original takes on the factory tour scenario, and I must admit, these can be far FAR more darker in tone and are blatantly fetishy. The first series is Infl8fan’s (as of now) unfinished Wonker series. It’s a pretty straight forward factory scenario with each entry bringing a new inflation and/or transformation to each of the guests, with fates that vary from being turned into a giant marshmallow, being turned into a literal couch potato, and becoming a giant glazed donut hole. (My personal favorite ends are with the couple that drinks Fizzy Lifting Drinks and inflate into balloons; bouncing off of each other as they ascend towards the fan high above them, and as mentioned before, when one deserving guest is turned into a giant glazed donut hole.) This series takes a logical step into what a factory like this might do, and doing so with new ideas while paying homage to the original material. But the next and final series does that and more.
The next series by theManWithaMagicMind goes DARK, and can be read as inflation/transformation horror rather than erotica. In this six part series a group of young women go on a tour of the Wazcoff candy factory; a factory which is alive, and has no intention of letting any of these young women escape. Simply put, this series is unrepentantly sadistic. From the tour guide, to the demonic Oompa Loompa stand-ins (who do in fact sing in this series; adding to the humiliation of some of the girls), to the factory itself near the end; all of it is dripping with pure sadism. Unlike other series, not all the women in this series wind up in the fetishy fates by their actions alone. As I said, the factory is alive, and it has no intention of anyone escaping as anything other than product. The result is that out of all of the spins on the factory tour trope that I have read, this series is the most unique and is still one of the best examples of taking the original source material and evolving it into something new and almost unrecognizable, aside from some of the setting’s bone structure (i.e. fantastical candy factory with pint-sized singing workers).
That all said, what is the appeal of this trope?
When it comes to creating body inflation and transformation fetish material, the factory tour scenario, and the factory as a setting in and of itself, are very easy jumping off points. In this magical factory, anything is possible, and I think that's one reason why this idea has such staying power as well. Out there, in our world, is this magical place we can go to to experience our fetishy fantasies, whether they be light-hearted or disturbingly dark. If you've read enough of my writing, you might have guessed that my tastes lean towards a more darker tone. But I can't help it. When I saw Violet at an early age, it spawned in me a desire to *be* Violet, or more specifically go through what she did. Blueberry inflation will always be close to my heart, and I'd do anything to become a berrygirl. And not just temporarily. I'm talking permanently. I love the idea of being inflated or transformed into one thing or another, and then being told that one, there's no way I can ever be turned back to normal, and two, that I can't leave; that I am now property of the factory, and they will do what they want with me. And with the myriad of examples found in these stories, I can't decide on what flavor of inflation/transformation I like more. So many of the fates that befall the unfortunate guests to these factories appeal to me. And as a result, it's hard to decide on which one I would rather experience/endure. Be exposed to a candy river that makes me swell until I'm a tight ball of fat with no hope of ever getting smaller? Downing Fizzy Lifting Drinks until I'm a helpless balloon girl? Or maybe experience being turned into a giant pastry? Honestly, I'd given anything to experience even one of those fates. But since this entire piece is for Juicy January, I guess I should settle on the beloved staple, and my personal favorite fantasy: of becoming a berrygirl.
Knowing me, even if they warn me what would happen when I start chewing the gum, I'd ignore them. I mean, that's probably why I made sure I was part of this tour in the first place: fulfilling my kinky dreams. I'd chew frantically, excited for the changes to start. Naturally, I'd probably start blushing at the comments the other guests would be making at my expense as I turn blue and start to swell with juice...
"Oh my god, she's really turning into a blueberry."
"You dumb bitch, spit it out!"
"Nah, let her keep chewing; I want to see what happens!"
"You signed the contract, Miss. You know what happens if you continue with this."
"Wait, what happens to her if she turns in a blueberry?"
"All confections & potential food created in the factory are in turn property of the factory. Therefor, Scotty here will be considered property if she becomes a blueberry; and no longer would be considered a person with rights."
But it wouldn't deter me; it would only spur me on. Because the idea of being reduced to property... kind of turns me on.
Swelling would probably start in either the belly and breasts or hips and ass. Belly and breasts is usually the more traditional area of initial swelling; both swelling with juice along with the ass and back, which would all merge together (sans maybe the breasts) into a spherical juicy torso which would then absorb the swelling limbs. Alternatively with the hips and ass, instead of the limbs being the last things to swell and merge with the body, only the arms would be the last. With this method the body swells in an arguably more realistic manner with the body taking on a teardrop shape at first before fully rounding out. Really, it boils down to which do you prefer: original Violet's inflation, or modern Violet's inflation (2005 Violet & the Musical Violet). For me? Either works; I just want to feel myself swell with juice and feel my skin stretch. I want to experience that feeling of being full all over as I'm reduced to being so delightfully helpless. And naturally there would be color commentary as I finally become the blueberry girl I've always dreamed of being:
"Jesus, that girl is such a fatass!"
"That's not fat, that's juice, you dumbass."
"I can't wait to post this video online!"
"Oh no, is she going to pop? Can you juice her or something??"
"No worries, she probably wont pop. But I'm afraid we have yet to be able to turn anyone who has chewed that gum back to normal. And juicing wont help; she'll only fill back up with juice before we can finish juicing her. But don't you worry, we have a use for her."
A "use" for me; a statement that both scares me and arouses me at the same time. And then would come the Oompa Loompa, or Loompettes, or whatever stand-in you prefer.
I'm no songwriter, but they would sing about me with more knowledge about me than they rightfully should as they'd toy with me. They would sing for all to hear about my fetishy hedonistic depravities as they roll me about like the helpless juicy ball that I am. By then... I'd probably just be frightened and humiliated. Aroused by my situation? Yes, but primarily humiliated as secrets I had only told a select few were revealed by creatures who I had never come in contact with before, and all while in front of a crowd, some of whom might be recording it all so that my humiliation may never be forgotten. Were I to ever leave, everyone would know the truth about me; I'd be forever remembered as the perverted berrygirl, and I'm sure my face would never stop burning with humiliation.
It already burns as my pint-sized tormentors sing and begin to toy with me. They roll me to better remove what shreds of clothing are left on me, even my socks, leaving me entirely nude for the smartphone cameras. One of them titters and boops my nose, and reminds me that fruit doesn't need to wear clothes; I guess that's what I am now: a giant piece of vaugely human-like fruit. It sees my reaction and titters more while the rest sing and play with me. They play with my long brunette hair, pinch my chubby juicy cheeks, and poke and prod my juicy body, eliciting some squeals and protests from me as they toy with some very... um... *delicate* areas. A couple even use my body like a squishy trampoline to bounce and flip in the air as I start to firm more. It doesn't come as a surprise when my muffled flustered squeals of protest fall on the deaf ears of the tiny workers. Nor should it come as a surprise when one of the other guests calls out "What's the matter? I thought you liked this kinky shit, you fucking perverted slut!"
My blueberry body now firm enough, the workers begin rolling me back and forth like a giant blue ball. It's frightening and exhilarating at once; I'm a blueberry girl! An honest to god, helpless, rollable, blueberry girl! But now I have to rely on the workers not to accidentally roll me over or into anything sharp, because now I have to actually worry about popping! And... now I'll always have to worry about that too, because there's no going back after this. So I flap my little blue hands, unable to see what's coming while my world tumbles and spins as I'm rolled on my sides and belly, and even ass over tea kettle sometimes; my head briefly being forced into a dark juicy divot in my own body before popping back out. The workers haven't ceased their lewd humiliating song about me either, which elicits snickers and scoffs of disgust from the guests as they watch me be stripped of my humanity. Some of them probably think I deserve whatever fate is in store for me, especially since it's clear I was only thinking with my libido. Who knows, maybe I do. But I don't regret becoming the blueberry girl I've always wanted to be.
I don't regret being potentially permanently rendered entirely immobile and helpless. I don't regret losing my limbs. I don't regret being forced to hear the many gallons of juice inside me slosh whenever I am moved or rolled. I don't regret feeling my swollen breasts and nethers leak my sweet juices down my huge spherical blue body. I might regret not bringing one of my kinky friends to enjoy this with me. And I might regret having my deepest secrets revealed to a group of strangers, some of whom were immortalizing my humiliation by way of cellphone cameras. But I don't regret becoming the berrygirl I've always dreamed of.
Their song finally finished, the workers give me a shove and send me rolling out of sight of the rest of the group through a large set of double doors. Once the doors close behind us the workers titter with laughter.
"You didn't hear any orders other than ‘take care of her,' yeah?" asks one worker of another.
"Nope! Should we just take her to the juicing room? Or are we going to have some fun with her?"
"We all know what he meant!" chirps another. "Let's just get the juicy slut in a juicer a take a break before we're needed with those other guests!"
Now, since this is DA, and we technically can't have fun here, let's take a more clinical look at juicing for a minute.
Methods of juicing berries and fruit usually fall into two categories (with a little overlapping at times). The first is the method is "a simple operation" that involves squeezing (ala original source material). Usually this is accomplished by way of some sort of contrived juicing press, or in the case of Okayokayokok's "Wendy Wonka and the Fetish Factory", a literal garbage compactor that the berry is loaded into to be juiced. The second method, and the reason for this being more clinical than being in first person, is by way of stimulation. This category consists of two methods that are sometimes combined. The first method is ye olde breast pump, where the berry is juiced like a cow is milked. If the berry in question has huge leaking breasts, there's a chance that the writer/artist might have the berry be juiced in a less risque manner to avoid the DA police. Because the second method is outright sexually explicit: juicing by way of orgasm. By now this is a well known method of juicing/deflation in inflation media, and it undoubtedly doesn't surprise many who read this. When it comes to the factory scenario, the juicing machine in this instance usually involves a form of phallic-based penetration to bring a berry to repeated orgasms. This is pretty straight forward when it comes to berrygirls, and sometimes involves the breast pumps as well, but varies some with berryboys. With berryboys there is still phallic-based penetration, but it comes by way of anal penetration, and with the addition of a penis pump to collect the juice when the berry achieves orgasm. I have yet to read a factory story that has a berry girl enjoying both forms of penetration, but if it were me, I'd prefer to go full hedonism and experience that myself as I'm kept as a free source of juice for the factory while I perpetually refill with juice.
Ah, the life of perpetual juicy pleasure. Now that's a life I wouldn't mind living. But it's not a very original ending, and wouldn't be done justice in such a clinically detached method of retelling. So let's rewind, shall we?ew llahs ,dniwer s'tel oS-
"Should we just take her to the juicing room? Or are we going to have some fun with her?" asks one of the workers, their voice becoming far too menacing for my liking.
"Yeah! Let's have some fun with her! If they wanted her to be taken to the juicing room then they should've been sure to say so!" They all cheer at this, in turn sending a chill through me as they start to roll me again. “Fun with her?” What could they mean by that?? I ask them where they’re taking me, and beg them to just take me to get juiced; I tell them I’ll do anything if they’d only take me to the juicing room! All I want was to live out being a blueberry in mind-numbing pleasure as I’m juiced everyday, is that so wrong?? But I only get high pitched menacing laughter as response. I close my eyes and whimper, trying to focus on the sound of my sloshing and not throwing up while they roll me, trying my best not to panic.
I’m going to be alright, right? Right??
After a few minutes of rolling the smell of chocolate returns, and becomes increasingly stronger. The workers roll me into and through another set of huge double doors, forcing an “oof!” out of me before I (pointlessly) tell them to be careful. They roll me into a sitting position while some audibly run off and others resume playing and messing with me. One climbs up on me and tells me to open my eyes, which I finally do once my head stops spinning, and I gasp.
Before me is a large round pool, maybe 30 feet in diameter, filled with liquid chocolate that occasionally bubbles. I look at the worker, panic clear on my face, and her face splits into a wide malicious grin.
“We’re in need of more giant chocolate covered blueberries, and you’re going to help us!”
I immediately recall the many times I’ve spent sitting on my couch and casually popping chocolate covered blueberries in my mouth while watching Youtube videos, and the realization of my situation makes the blood drain from my face.
Oh god! I’m not just a giant piece of fruit, I’m FOOD!!!
Tears immediately start flowing down my face as I beg with the worker not to do this, but she just puts a finger over my mouth and hushes me.
“You’re either going to become a chocolate covered blueberry, or you’re going to be baked into a pie. Which would you prefer?” I sob in response. “That’s what I thought” she says smugly. "Where are we on preparations?!"
I scream for help as best I can between sobs, desperate for anyone other than these little monsters will hear me and come stop them. But no one comes to my rescue as the workers finish their prep work, and they stop playing with me so they can group up again behind me and on top of me.
“Okay! We push on three! One!”
I suddenly notice something I didn’t catch before: there’s at least a seven foot drop from the lip of the pool, no, the giant broiler, in front of me!
Will I survive the fall?! Or will I just burst on impact like a water balloon dropped from a bridge?!
“Hold you’re breath! THREE!!!”
I flail my hands and scream involuntarily as I go over the edge. The two workers on top of me vault off of me and back onto solid ground as I briefly go airborne before crashing into the surface of the chocolate pool. The impact is horrible, and I feel like I’m going to burst, but thankfully I don’t. I shut my eyes tight as I go under, and my lungs burn for air after the breath is knocked out of me by the impact. I hear the sound of muffled cheering, which is then joined by the sound of heavy machinery and of something plunging into the chocolate near me. Something like a giant slotted spoon scoops me up and brings me spluttering and sobbing out of the chocolate to the continued cheering of the workers.
“Dunk her again!” one yells, and they all cheer as I scream before being dunked again and again.
I quietly sob as the spoon finally stops dunking me after the eighth time, and brings me out of the pool before splitting away beneath me and depositing me on solid ground. But before I can even relax, the supposedly solid ground begins moving, and I’m carted out of the room. The chocolate is too thick over my eyes to open them, but I can still breathe, thankfully, as I’m taken somewhere noticeably cooler. I hear quiet sobs and moans around me as I stop moving, and I can only assume I’m with the other chocolate covered blueberries; brought to a cooler of some kind to allow our chocolate to sit and solidify.
My own sobbing and moans soon join the others as we await an unknown fate, and I begin to regret becoming a helpless blueberry girl...
For the most part, even if you’re only doing the testing room scene, the themes of humiliation and helplessness are key. Naturally there are more nuances to it than just that, but I think those are the two main elements that appeal to both inflators and inflatees (read “sadists” and “masochists”). I think that is one of the big reasons why this scenario has the staying power to still be used in this fetish community even after over a decade of me watching iterations of it pop up. Humiliation and helplessness are, arguably, two of the biggest elements found in both the inflation and transformation fetishes, possibly even their cornerstones, and when they can easily be found in a scenario, then that scenario isn’t going anywhere.
The factory tour, and the factory setting in general, are more than likely never going away. Wonka’s factory is too ingrained in the media of this community to ever really go away, and I for one still look forward to seeing what new spins on it come up, because in all honesty, I will always find myself imagining myself in the position of the hapless tour guests, and wishing to experience what they’re going through. And I know I’m not the only one who does.