(4/4) (forgot my numbers)
Hermione’s vomiting of cum came more frequently, barely enough time to catch her breath between heaves. Somewhere along the way a rocket of cum-vomit shot uncontrollably out of mouth, and nose. The effect was immediate and it was with a final breath she could finally understand the last thing she would taste and smell was the pungent sour cum of Peter Pettigrew.

The cum duplication rate was now too great for Hermione to catch her breath between vomiting. It was moments after she inhaled a huge amount of cum that her lungs filled with the same cum pouring out of her only orifice with which to escape. The initial burning pain that filled her lungs was only a faint discomfort in the grand scheme of her death. She realized soon after, that drowning in cum was rather humiliating, and that to her logical brain she came to terms that suffocating, while painful was actually a rather slow death. She felt the cum pouring out of her mouth and nose freely like a waterfall, could hear Harry and Ron’s pleading as she slowly began to fade out. The last thing she saw was the disappointed face of Wormtail, and his last words.

“Master, I really thought she’d have exploded.”