'Dear people of the world, I, Wilma Wonka, have decided to allow five special people to visit my factory this year. In addition, one of these people will receive a special prize beyond what anyone could ever imagine...''


Dusselhiem, Germany, Gloop Family Catering shop...

The very next day, the first golden ticket was found. Cameras flashed, momentarily illuminating the monumental frame of the 19 year old known as Augusta Gloop. She was a girl who was so incredibly fat that she looked as though she had been blown up with a powerful pump. Great flabby folds were barely contained by her voluminous outfit: a red and white horizontally striped shirt and a skirt. Her shirt was riding up the immense beach-ball of soft white fat that was her belly, the pearl bellybutton piercing jigging like a ship upon a stormy ocean. The skirt clung to her massive waistline, straining and protesting at being forced to contain such a massive body. Her head was a great chubby ball of dough, with two greedy little eyes and topped by long, blond hair, which hung down to Augusta’s shoulders. Her legs were two pillars of flesh, with small little feet and calves sloping upwards into massive thighs and a wobbling behind that was barely concealed by her skirt. Her mouth was wide, smeared with chocolate, and currently crammed full. She was busy stuffing the remains of a Wonka bar into her mouth, cheeks bulging with chocolate. Her three chins wobbled with each chew. In her other hand was a stein, filled with frothy thick beer. Her mother stood beside her, beaming proudly to the reporters and the cameras as they continued to record this historic moment. Mrs. Gloop was also very fat, although her daughter had (alarmingly) edged her out. Mrs. Gloops dress at least was having a better time restraining her blubber. It was a traditional Dirndl, with a black bodice which (for the moment) restrained her copious belly. It accented her breasts, pushing them upwards: two soft, pale orbs that threatened to jump from Mrs. Gloops blouse. The skirt held tight to her fattened hips, soft green on both sides with a white apron. Her red hair was done up in a bun, and although she was in her 40s she was quite pretty. Her face was fat, with a double chin and chubby, rosy cheeks. She had blue eyeliner, and thick ruby-red lips which were in a beaming smile. Her eyes were like her daughters: greedy and hungry. In the background, tending to a long chain of sausages was one fat girl's father, and the other one's husband. He was quite the stark contrast to his wife and daughter, as despite being bald, he sprouted a large mustache, and had the body of a muscleman. His shirt failing to withhold the muscles, like the womans skirts were failing to contain their enormous bellies. Augusta took a great swig of beer, washed down the mass of chocolate in her mouth, and began to speak. 

''I am eating ze Vonka bar, vhen un suddenly, I am tasting something zhat is not chocolate! Coconut? Nougat? valnut? Peanut butter? Cocoa butter? Caramel? Sprinkles? Nein! So I look, und I find ze Golden Ticket,'' explained Augusta, as she waved the golden ticket a little, showing most prominently the bit where she'd taken a bite out of the golden ticket, itself. 

''Ve knew Augusta vould find ze Golden Ticket. she eats so many candy bars a day zat it vas not possible for her not to find one,'' said Augusta's mother, Mrs. Gloop, who proudly patted her daughter's overstuffed gut, causing it to jiggle and wobble. Giggling at the cameras, the two sows waved, causing their arm fat to shake back and forth. 
“Eating is mine hobby! I vork at mine parent’s shop, and eat zee extra goodies all day! But zat is not enough for un big girl like me, so I make sure I eat five square meals a day!” 
Several restaurateurs in the crowed smiled. Augusta was a regular at many of their establishments, and always place massive orders.
“In fact, I von first place at ze regional competitive eating competition!” Augusta motioned to the large badge which was pinned precariously to her right dresstrap. It had been her proudest achievement, until finding the golden ticket earlier that day. 
“Zat’s all she’s interested in! But food is ze Gloop family business, and it’s better than being a punk or falling in with a bad crowed. It is all vitamins and nutrients anyvay! We are as proud as ve can be!”

A reported stepped forward from the crowd “Augusta, how did you celebrate?”

“I eat more candy!” Augusta exclaimed, and then her eyes lit up. Digging into her ample cleavage, she pulled out a Wonka bar. She tore into the gooey mass, cramming the sticky, chocolate mass into her eager mouth as everyone laughed. “At ziz rate, I vill find two more!” Augusta said through a mouthful of chocolate. 

“Zat’s my girl!” exclaimed Mrs Gloop, who also began to tear into a bar of chocolate. The two greedy woman giggled together as they devoured their candy...


Buckinghamshire, England, Salt Manor...

''When I read Mr Wonka’s announcement in the evening paper, I or-I mean asked my husband to embark on a long, and hard journey to find it '' Mrs. Veruca Salt said, softly rubbing her husband’s hair, who was standing besides her. It was a little creepy to be honest. Mr. Salt stood awkwardly: He was 32, and Veruca five years younger but she clearly intimidated him. Mr. Salt was a peanut tycoon, and Veruca the heiress of a mining conglomerate. He was thin, and threadworn despite his fancy suit. She was voluptuous, her soft, light-chocolate skin wrapped in a green silk dress which clung to her curved hips and sizable butt. Her midsection was soft, and clearly visible through her dress. Her black locks draped over her shoulders, reaching down to her chest and the heart-shaped neckline of her dress. The deep cleavage between Mrs. Salt’s hefty knockers was on full display, and she was all too happy to display it. 

''When my Veruca heard the news she was positively distraught. She was outraged that an obese commoner like that Augusta pig could win such a wonderful prize. So I went to my factory and told my workers that they would stop shelling peanuts and start shelling Wonka bars. And they did it day and night until I found one, and now my Veruca is all smiles!”
Veruca flash a broad, transparently forced grin, and her grip on Mr Salt’s hair tightened. She snuggled him closer. “My Darling husband wants nothing more than to see his Veruca happy!”
“Y-yes dear” Mr. Salt replied, his head resting on her bosom. 
A reporter stepped forward, slightly creeped out by the couples mannerisms. 
“Er, Mrs. Salt, what happened to the extra chocolate from all the bars that were shilled?”
Veruca smiled. “Well, they were donated to the unfortunates to give them some cheer in their poor little lives. After all, no sense in letting it go to waste.” Veruca gave a bright smile at the reporters, who coo’d over her humanitarianism. Of course, she was lying. Mr. Salt had wanted to give away the extra chocolate to the needy. But Veruca was loath to just give away things, and she had yelled and screamed and demanded until he finally relented. After all, this chocolate-shelling business had to at least break even, and chocolate was in high demand. The extra chocolate had been repacked, and then sold off as ‘genuine’ Wonka bars to make a profit from ‘Wonkamania’. That is, except for a few boxes which Veruca had taken for her personal use. After all, she was more than happy to let the chocolate go to her waist, as her pampered figure showed...

Atlanta, Georgia, Beauregarde Residence...

''I'm just like, really, really proud of my Violet for being one of the lucky ones that get to attend this once in a lifetime opportunity. I mean, just look at this...'' Violet's personal trainer, Scarlet, proclaimed as she posed in front of all the trophies and awards her girlfriend had won.

Scarlet was 32, and had the body of an athlete that had become slightly lazy. Her bronze-colored butt was large, round, and toned, but was clearly becoming a bit fluffy. The thin, nylon sweatpants she wore were clearly a size smaller than they should be, and they were stretched thin over her rear end. Her midsection was softer than it was in her prime, and her breasts were more pronounced. She still retained her hour-glass figure however, just a bit more hour-glassy. Her face was still sharp and angular, hawk-like, untainted by the pudge that was slowly accumulating on her booty. Her skin was olive colored, tanned from long exercises on the field. She wore a red choke-collar, and had a short bob haircut, dark brown with red accents. She had once been an Olympic athlete, until a knee injury ended her career. She had switched to coaching after that, training a string of athletes until she met Violet, who quickly became her protege and, later, lover.

''Was there really any doubt that she'd find a golden ticket? No, what moron thinks that she's gonna lose?'' Scarlet’s confidence in her girlfriend was...inspiring.

''Of course, I have my own share of trophies,'' Scarlet continued, directing everyone's attention towards several track, baton, cheer-leading, and beauty pageant awards.

Violet, a toned, athletically built woman, had just been standing there in silence. Holding up the golden ticket, and chewing on some gum. She was more in shape than Scarlet (although Scarlet would never admit it) and indeed seemed to be a prime athlete. She was tall, with thin but powerful legs wrapped in a skintight nylon workout suit. Violet’s crop-top displayed her firm abdomen. It was like a washboard, without an ounce of softness or flab. Her breasts were small, and clamped tight by a sports bra. Her face was sharp, angular, with a short blonde bob haircut with blue accents. She was fair skinned, although tanned. Like Scarlet, she wore a choke-collar (although hers was blue to match her dyed hair).  With a snap, she broke the bubble she was blowing and the 24 year old athlete began to speak.

''What my coach says is true, I never back down from a challenge. When I heard about this Golden Ticket I set out with two goals. One, to find the damn thing, and two, to not gain a single pound. Unlike some people, I can count calories. When I switched from chewing gum to candy bars, I worked out overtime, and guess what? Goals number one and two are done! I found a golden ticket and kept my beautiful figure. Of course, like Scarlet was saying, there was no doubt I was going to find a Golden Ticket.” 
	Violet paused to blow a bubble, and then launched back into her rant. “And this ''special prize'' that I’ve heard so many people making a fuss about, I only have one thing to say to these other four: don't bother, this prize is already as good as mine.''


Denver, Colorado, Teevee Residence...

''Effort? Heh, not me, lady,'' scoffed Milly, whose back was turned, as she watched her live interview on TV. She was surrounded by electronic gadgets: video games, computer monitors, and recording devices, all blinking and whirring and beeping. Se was particularly invested in a large computer monitor, on which she was live-streaming herself playing Bloodfest 8 to her Glitch.TV audience. Despite this, though, she was still able to answer the interviewers' questions with little difficulty. "All you had to do was check the manufacturing date, offset by weather, and the derivative of the serial number. A retard could figure it out," she sneered. Finding it insulting that this brainless bimbo would ask her such a thing...not her friend Carmen (who was standing nearby in a daze), but the reporter.

	Milly Teevee was 20 years old. She was plump, with a cushiony posterior, a chubby little belly and ample breasts. She wore a tank-top, which showed off her significant bust. Her flabby butt was currently contained by a pair of denim shorts. It was a flat kind of flabby, not the curvy soft balls that graced Mrs. Salt or Scarlet. She was not big enough to be called ‘fat’, but she certainly was chubby, courtesy of her gamer lifestyle. Her skin was soft and pale-cream colored, in contrast to her jetblack hair which hung back in a ponytail. In her hands she clutched a game controller, fingers clacking away as she played her game. 

Standing beside Milly was her best friend and roommate, the lovely 23 year old Carmen. Like Milly, she wore a pair of denim shorts. Unlike Milly, her ass could firmly be described as ‘phat’. Two round globes of soft, jiggling booty, which tapered down into soft thighs and black cowgirl boots. Her softly tanned belly was plump, and slightly hung out of her orange blouse. Her chestnut hair ran down to her back, and she had thick, full lips with pink lipstick. She was staring in general shock at the flood of activity, her brain still trying to understand that her roommate had tracked the golden ticket without her knowing.

''Most of the time, I don’t know what she’s talking about (not that she ever knew what anyone was talking about). You know, the internet and gamers. I, like, use the internet to produce, like, content but…”
	Milly cut her off “Come-one Carmen, don’t talk about your porn videos to the journos”
Carmen stuttered, her train of thought temporary derailed. Then they continued. “She does, like, internet videos where she plays video games and like, people watch her. I, like, don’t really get it, but then, like, she gets real good money and stuff…”

	Her roommate’s ramblings where broken off when Milly shouted out “Come on you bastard, get me! She was distracted by the boss on her video game. 


Unknown, Unknown, Bucket's ''Residence''...

''Uh, can I offer anyone some tea? Coffee or Cocoa?'' Charles mother, Mrs. Bucket, asked the few reporters that were were squeezed into their modest home. Mrs. Bucket was a thin woman, with dirty blonde hair and pale skin. Her dress was light blue, although it was covered in multiple patches of other-colored fabric. It was the nicest outfit she owned. 

One reporter accepted her offer, and another drank their coffee happily, which served to warm them a little, as a cold breeze moved through the house. Others, politely declined, and was more interested in hearing how the 21 year old Charles came by the golden ticket.

''W-well, there really isn't much to say, honestly,'' Charles said, rubbing the back of his head. ''I've been saving up my earnings from working at the newpaper to buy the one Wonka bar...'' he held up the ticket, smiling in surprised, and shrugging his shoulder, ''and there it was, just the golden ticket in that one specific bar of chocolate.''

	Charles was thin and ragged looking. His grey woolen sweater seemed to be several sizes to large for him. His arms were bony and his face hollow and starved. However, his newspaper job had given him decent muscles and a wiry body. If he had a few good meals, he’d probably look much better. 

''That sounds like an unbelievable coincidence, Charles, how did you feel, personally, about being the lucky finger of the final golden ticket?'' a reporter asked, trying her best to sound serious despite the surreal circumstances. 

''All I can tell you is that it's been my dream to see what's inside that factory, and meet Ms. Wonka, herself!'' he exclaimed, letting some of his excitement get the better of him...