A pissless raisin

Hermione wheezes, clutching her stomach as her dry skin grows more and more wrinkly, every drop of fat liquidating and gushing into the toilet loudly. Hermione’s trembling fingers curl on their own as her cheeks grow haunt and her bulging eyes shrivel in their sockets. She looks more and more like a desiccated mummy by the second, and as even her bones start melting away into piss she grows smaller and more deformed.

If she weren’t already wring so completely dry, she might have vomited from the nauseating feeling of her guts squirting out of her crotch in steamy splashes. She sinks lower on the toilet, her once modest backside now compressing and vacuuming itself to be too small to properly sit on the toilet seat. Her stiff, sticklike legs barely keep her upright, and she only manages not to fall in because so much of her body weight is already pissed away.