In Which Breakfast Proceeds Without Issue, J/K Get Ready For a No-Pants Party

The princess's breath catches as your gazes meet, her big green eyes quivering as you try to figure out what the hell you should be saying. Sorry I saw your tits, they are insane like whoa? Sorry I popped a massive erection, my dick wants us to be closer as brother and sister? Your awkward silence is mercifully cut short when the woman at the head of the table gives a stern ahem, at last giving you the **** of will to look away from your sister and towards anything else.

She too is a stunningly attractive woman, but graceful and lissome in contrast to the juicy little overripe peach that is the princess. She's a grown woman to be sure, maybe around forty, though the glinting silver streaks in her lavender hair and her air of womanly maturity are the only hints of her true age amidst her pristine beauty. You're nearly aligned with the gray-green eyes she levels them at you over her cup of tea; she can't be more than an inch or two shorter than you are. She holds you in her gaze for a moment as she sips her tea, her slim figure the epitome of poise in her tasteful high-necked gown. At length she flicks her eyes towards the princess, her velvety voice clearly used to having what it says followed promptly. "Well, Genevieve? Aren't you going to greet your brother?"

The princess (Genevieve? You didn't even know her fucking name) obediently nods as she rises from the table, beginning to make her way down the entirely silly length of the dining table towards you. You realize it's going to take all morning for her to reach you, so you trepidaciously start forward to meet her halfway. That seems to have mollified your sister's apprehension, tension visibly draining from her body as she abandons her slow shuffle to pick up her skirts and bound towards you. You struggle to process the sight of the smiling young girl loping towards you, enormous breasts wobbling merrily to and fro, and keep coming up short, your heart pounding in your chest and your feet faltering. She's reached you before you actually collapse, thank God, though the feeling of her pillowy boobs spreading out hugely across your chest as she throws her arms around you has you weak in the knees all over again.

"Good morning, big brother..." she softly murmurs before craning her head up expectantly. Oh fuck, she wants a kiss.

Hoping she can't feel you trembling, you lean down and give the princess a kiss that comes dangerously close to being on the side of her plump lips rather than on her rosy cheek. "Good morning, Ge-", something inside you instinctively corrects you; you don't call her that, "...Ginny."

The woman at the head of the table makes a satisfied noise at that. "Very good. Now join us, darling boy; you are ever so late this morning."

With that, you find yourself being slowly led down the length of the stupid table, teeth gritted together as your sister clutches your arm deep within her plush, cavernous cleavage. You desperately search for any distraction. Chair! Um, Ceiling! Gah, those were the only possible distractions! You briefly, nonsensically hope that Ginny's voice at your side will herald your salvation. "I'm sorry for barging in on you this morning...and, ah, I know it wasn't your fault you got all, um...you know..." Oh God. "But don't worry! I know that...that just happens to men all the time, and it doesn't mean anything!"

What. Oh shit, are you going to press this? Shut the fuck up, dummy! "It...happens all the time?"

Ginny nods happily, inadvertently rubbing your tit-enveloped arm with the walls of its marshmellowy prison. "Oh, I see it happen all the time! Gosh, I must see dozens of men perk right up every day, just walking by! It must be so bothersome to get all stiff like that for no reason, but sure enough they all do: the guards, the groundskeepers, my tutors, um...the royal physician, Father Ferrill..."

You're stuck dumb as your sister lists off the seemingly endless parade of men who are unable to resist popping a boner in her presence, and you cannot blame them because the throbbing cock trying to burst its way out of your robe marks you as one of their number. The fuck, she doesn't even notice as she continues to blithely list off names! Neither does the woman at the head of the table apparently, who simply takes a serene sip from her china cup as you desperately try to will you and your massive erection into your ever-nearing seat.

You almost think you've made it off scot-free when chair comes within striking distance, but just then the pretty young maid who leans in to fill your cup makes a strangled noise as she gapes down at your groin. Yup. Your twitching cockhead has cheekily popped out to say 'hello'. Ginny somehow still hasn't noticed, your sister declining to release your arm as she pulls you both down into your seats and scoots her chair directly against yours, cuddling up against your side. The maid lets out a small gasp and nearly drops her kettle, prompting the older woman to make a noise of concern. "Are you alright, dear? You've gone pale."

The maid straightens, quickly setting her kettle down and beginning to fidget with the strings of her apron, either unwilling or unable to dislodge her eyes from your straining manhood. "I'm fine, ah, mistress, I just, um, that is-"

The woman cuts her off, a touch stern but not unkindly. "You look absolutely faint. Run along and find some less strenuous task."

"Um, yes, Lady Gwendolyn."

The maid starts to scurry off as the woman (Lady Gwendolyn?) shakes her head, then turns back to the two of you. She favors you both with a slight curve of what strike you as rather sultry lips before glancing down to where your arm is still being utterly devoured by Ginny's endless cleavage. "We'll be needing to schedule the seamstresses again."

Ginny sighs dramatically, an act that sends nearly sends her chest careening out of her top. "I know."

"It's perfectly natural, of course," Lady Gwendolyn remarks as she sets her cup down, "The women of the royal line have always had regal bosoms. But I promised the memory of your dear mother that her beloved children would never want for anything once you had passed into my care, and that certainly includes properly fitting gowns."

"I knoooow."

"Be that as it may, you might consider saying 'when' sooner rather than later. If you get much bigger the court will whisper than you've had your breasts ensorcelled."

Ginny pouts at that, leaning further into you as she sullenly traces a finger across your arm. "You know I didn't have my breasts ensorcelled, right big brother?"

"Um, ye-eees~!?!" You barely manage to finish what you assume was the right reply when you feel a warm little hand reach into your robe and take hold of your all but cheering cock. You glance nervously at Ginny and Gwendolyn, only allowing yourself to peek lower once you've confirmed that they seem oblivious to these latest developments. It seems the perky maid from a moment ago decided that a less strenuous task would be to silently crawl under the table and take care of the erection she spied She cheekily presses a quieting finger to her lips as she draws your full length against the side of her face, then starts to give you an achingly slow lick from the base of your churning balls up to the tip of your pre-dolloping head.

Ginny looks up at you as you **** back a grunt, her sparkling green eyes concerned as she lays a comforting hand on your chest. "Big brother? Are you alright?"

You are emphatically not alright, and you are one thousand percent absolutely alright. You don't know yet if this world is heaven or hell, but you decide to put aside the philosophical quandaries until you figure out how to properly enjoy a truly masterful blowjob while having breakfast with literal fucking royalty. Where's goddamn Miss Manners when you need her?