The Practice Date, Part Two

A different, earlier You might have found traipsing through town on what is clearly a date with your own sister to be, shall we say, somewhat awkward. Embarrassing, even. That's not the sort of thing normal people do, right? And you don't even have the cover of anonymity to fall back on; every single person who lays eyes on you and the busty hottie clinging to your arm knows that you are the Prince and she is the Princess, and it doesn't take very much math from that point to realize why that is pretty weird.

The Different, Earlier You was a fucking dummy though. That guy can go jump into a fire. Because you just made some off-hand comment to Ginny that made her giggle so hard that she snorted, and now your heart and dick have ganged up to beat the shit out of your brain. If anyone thinks there is anything wrong with you spending every possible moment with this absolute goddess, that's on them. You know exactly where you want to be, and with whom.

Though you can't help noticing that the townsfolk don't seem to particularly care. You receive friendly greetings and waves from everyone you pass, and if any of them see a problem with what's going on they hide it very well. You suppose that most villagers wouldn't feel all that free to publicly accuse literal royalty of blasphemous acts, like, right to their faces? But still. Interesting.

The temporary distraction the matter means you don't notice that Ginny has been steering you in a particular direction until you've come upon what looks like a fashionable café in the center of town. Oh, does she want to stop for some tea or something? This place must be good; practically every table is filled with well-to-do young ladies and local noblewomen. Actually wait, you know nearly all of these girls; Aunt Gwen has floated pretty much all of them as potential matches for you. How does a single café attract the twenty richest and most beautiful young women in the region? They must have a fucking dynamite scone recipe.

As the girls spot Ginny they offer up a smattering of hellos, asking about how she's been and why she's running late. Did Ginny invite all of these girls to tea? Because you know for a fact that she actively dislikes two thirds of them at least. By now they've spotted you as well, their greetings for her immediately melting into a flirty chorus for you alone as twenty chairs scoot closer and twenty necklines are pulled down to reveal an extra helping of cleavage. Jesus, these girls are ravenous. Why in the world would your sister bring you here?

You don't have to wonder long as Ginny squishes your arm even further between her enormous breasts, favoring the gathered debutantes with a smile so sweet it could poison a horse. "Hello girls~! I'm so sorry, but I have to cancel tea today!" She reaches up, lightly playing with the cord that holds your tunic together at the neck. "I'm on a date."

The hopeful coos from the gaggle of girls die an abrupt **** at that, a quiet cough from somewhere in the back the only reply as Ginny continues to essentially titfuck your arm right in front of them. At length she lets out a happy sigh, her little hand slipping all the way into the neck of your tunic to caress your firm chest. "Well we really must be going now. So much left to do!" She tilts her head up to give you a deeply pleased smile. "Won't you say goodbye to the girls, Big Brother?"

What else can you do? You raise a hand, giving the group of intensely annoyed looking women a little wave. "Goodbye, girls."

That being done, Ginny turns with a flick of her skirts and begins to lead you away, warm and practically shivering with delight as she presses herself up against you. You can clearly hear the girls muttering darkly in the background; whether she's fully aware of it or not, your sister certainly made a position statement today. You'd thought that was that, but apparently Ginny can't help herself because she whips around to blow a raspberry at the other girls before urging you to pick up your pace, giggling herself into a snorting fit all the way.

This is the girl you love, and you are fucking down for it.

Once Ginny has finished parading you in front of seemingly every eligible woman in town, the date takes on a significantly more relaxed tenor. For a long while you simply stroll hand in hand, sometimes chatting happily about whatever pops into your heads but just as often in contented silence, Ginny's head resting comfortably against your shoulder. By the time you've brought her around to the picnic spread Issa has laid out for you the sun is just beginning to set, casting the lovely scenery of the castle gardens in shades of orange and lavender that give the late afternoon a feeling of otherworldly wonder. Even the sun wants you two to get together. That's a fucking endorsement if you've ever seen one.

Ginny offers a soft thanks as you refill her glass of wine, cuddled up in the crook of your arm as you rest with your back against a shady oak. She takes a sip, her cheeks a bit flushed from the ****'s effects, then lifts her head to give you a surprisingly pensive look. "Um, can we pause the practice date for a second? I want to ask your opinion on something."

Where is this leading? "Sure, of course. What is it?"

The princess hesitates for a moment, then takes another sip of wine. "Well, um...." She steels herself, twisting around slightly in your arms as she puffs out her chest to offer up her vast breasts for inspection. "Are my boobs too big?"

You immediately sputter out your mouthful of wine, barely avoiding spraying it all over your sister as she earnestly displays her overripe rack and even more barely avoiding **** to ****. She knits her eyebrows together in concern as you work your way through your coughing fit, only able to **** out the shortest of replies. "Wha-?"

Ginny frowns lightly, turning her eyes down towards the breasts that block both her and your laps from view. "Are my boobs too big? Are they...weird?"

By now you've more or less regained composure, at least enough that you can tell that this isn't some sort of game. Ginny seems sincerely concerned, so you'd better treat this with the consideration she deserves. "Well, Ginny...what do you think? Isn't that what's really important?"

Ginny immediately sticks her tongue out at you, passing her wine glass to Issa so she can lean forward and place her hand on your chest. And, it must be said, smoosh the glorious mashmellowy mountains in question directly into you. "That's cheating. You have to answer first."

You definitely didn't fuck enough maids. You're not at full power yet, but judging by the rumbling deep inside your groin it's coming. And when it does, it is going to be a fucking doozy. You can better get this emotional stuff out quickly. "Ginny, do you know what I like about you?" She shakes her head, and you continue on. "I like the way you snort when you laugh. I like...that you skip far more frequently than most girls your age should. I like that you never know any of the right words to songs, and you still sing them as loudly as you can."

Ginny gasps in faux shock at that, giving you a little smack on the chest. "I know the words to things!"

You continue on undaunted. "I like how sweet you are, and how gentle you are. I like how every baby and animal instantly falls in love with you. I like how I feel when I make you smile, how I feel even when you're just around. You are my favorite person in the world, Ginny, and it is impossible for any part of you to be 'weird'."

Ginny's expression has softened as you spoke, at some point the girl leaning in to rest her head against you. Her hand has shifted to your side, her fingers slowly running up and down your body as she quietly murmurs into your chest. "You're avoiding the question. 'S cheating."

Well she's not wrong. You give a performative sigh. "Fine. You, Princess Genevieve, are the most beautiful woman in the world, and your breasts are without question absolutely perfect. They are huge, and they are fucking great."

Ginny giggles into your chest, her laughter trailing off as she continues to trail her fingers along your side. For a moment you simply sit in each other's embrace, and then Ginny speaks up again. "You know the portrait hall, right?"

Of course you do, though you've been thinking of it as The Hall of Boners. She's referring to the hallway in the castle that has a full body portrait of every member of the female royal line. It's nothing but wall-to-wall displays of gorgeous women with pastel colored hair and giant breasts, like some sort of Renaissance Playboy spread. You've never been able to make it all the way down that hall without having to snatch up a maid for an emergency fuck. Once, as you were passing through, it occurred to you that one of the women softly smiling over an acre of inviting cleavage was your grandmother, and an hour later you had collapsed on a pile of a half-dozen deeply pleased maids. What can you say? This world has turned you into a fucking pervert.

Not that Ginny needs to know all, or any, of that. You opt for a quiet nod, and she continues on. "I used to wander that hallway every day, sometimes for hours. Just staring at all the women who came before me. All of them so beautiful, and so...big." She's shifted around again, snuggling back against you as she gazes down at her bulging chest. "I remember the day I realized I'd finally outgrown one of them. Great Aunt Belinda. She was the smallest, yes, but I was still so young." She can't keep the little smile off of her face as she starts to ever so slightly rock her shoulders, the little motion causing her ponderous breasts to wobble gloriously. "I came back every single day, and it wasn't long before I'd outgrown another. And another. When I got as big as Auntie Gwen, I thought I'd reached my limit. But then I couldn't fit into the bra I, um, borrowed from her anymore, and I just. Kept. Getting. Bigger." She turns her sparkling emerald eyes up to you, sweet and pure as an angel while her humongous boobs continue to jiggle with all the promise of a devil. "I'm bigger than all of them, now. I'm the biggest princess we've ever had, and I think I, um, love it."

She carefully bites her plump lower lip, familiar dents beginning to poke out from her swaying rack. "Um, can we unpause the practice date?"

"Yes."