The old winners were to arrive in just a few hours. Of the hundreds of rooms in the factory, he had set aside rooms for each of the returning to stay in. Violet and Mike's were modest: Violet's had a large empty wall for her trophies, and Mike's had a large television with digital cable and a PS2; that should keep those two out of his perfectly moisturized hair. As for Augustus Gloop, he was not even certain if he was returning, so therefore, no room. Veruca's room, however, was a completely different story. He had chosen for the heiress, one of his own personal rooms, which meant it was three times the size of either Mike or Violet's, and adorned with anything and everything that he thought the girl would want for.

The bed was a king size, and covered in satin sheets and a comforter of pink velvet. The posts were made of solid gold and the floor had a carpeting of angora in the sleeping area, which was the bed and the bed alone with the exception of a nightstand which matched the bad frame. In another part of the room, was a vanity table already set with all the make-up and perfumes one could imagine, (knowing nothing of make-up, he simply had simply hired a personal shopper from Harrods's to make the selection based off her complexion and personality; although within just a few moments of listening to his description of her, they started to think that this little girl was not human). Beside the vanity, well, in another section, there was a soda fountain, a refrigerator, and a vending machine full of lollipops, as he knew they were a favourite of hers, (not to mention he was fond of watching her suck on them). Then there was a door leading into a luxurious bathroom with a large tub complete with air jets, many candles of different scents, (he was quite fond of aromatherapy), and so on and so forth. He just hoped this was near enough for her.

He removed his hat and flopped down upon her bed. A glove of purple latex was taken off of his left hand, so that he could feel the texture of the velvet against his skin. Tonight she would be sleeping right where he was lying at that very moment! What would she wear to sleep? A nightgown of the purest silk, as nothing else deserved to be so near to that perfect skin, right? He closed his eyes, wondering how they would speak. Would she kiss him again? Oh, if she kissed him again! Seven years of such built-up desire would only result in him taking her to this bed. Would he even end-up in here, laying next to her, kissing along her neck, caressing her cheek, feeling her soft hand against him…her touch had to be so much softer than his. How could he even begin to fathom her touch when using his hand as a substitute! Such would have to do for the moment being. Perhaps after he got her away from the crowd, he could experience her, as opposed to just the dream. He groaned out her name as he started to move his hand a bit faster to keep—up with his fantasy. Then, a knock on the door.

Wonka quickly fixed-up his pants and hopped off the bed, before answering the door in an annoyed manner, "Charlie! I hate you. Go away. Die."

Charlie was used to this by now, "Sorry to interrupt your pipe cleaning session."

"Pipe cleaning? I'm not even in the Chocolate room!"

"No. You know what I mean. You don't want to face Veruca all…excited to see her," Charlie had a casual air about him on such subjects, well, at least with his only friend.

"Oh," the chocolateer blushed and cleared his throat, "Let he among us without sin cast the first stone."

"Quoting the Bible? Since when were your religious?"

Wonka giggled, "I'm not. I just like that quote, and now was a good time to use it."

The two had started down the main hallway towards the front doors where the others were to be waiting.

"And that is why I'm glad we're having other people arrive. We have grown too close in these past seven years…like brothers who live together and work together and see no one else other than their family. Right down to the point of knowing one another's masturbation habits."

That caused Wonka to skid to a halt, "No. That's not normal."

"You're not normal."

"I know. But not in a weird way."

It seemed that the others had already arrived, and were waiting outside, just as they had been the first time they arrived. Only this time, it was not with parents. Violet's hair was a bit longer, and she was a bit taller, but that was pretty much the only difference when it came to her; she still had the horrific gum-chewing habit. Mike looked just as fried as ever, but he had somehow gotten back to an average height and weight, despite the being stretched, he was quite short for a boy of eighteen, only 5'4. Augustus had arrived, and he had changed the most; he was, indeed, a Calvin Klein model, standing 6'3 and weighing only about 140 lbs, instead of eating a candy bar, he was reading the German edition of Maxim, admiring a photo of himself. And then there was Veruca. Yes, she was a bit taller, but still small; even smaller than Mike. Her figure had filled-out, but she was still clearly the same child. She wore a black and white checkered dress with a fitted bodice and flared skirt, her curly brown hair was pulled away from her face with two clips with red-jeweled hearts on them. Although twenty, she looked no older than fifteen.

'I told you she 'd be the same," Wonka murmured to Charlie.