The next morning

You are running through the woods near the orc village. You are hunting a boar. It flees in fear, desperately crashing through the underbrush. You are gaining on it. You've been chasing it for hours, slowly wearing down it's energy. You are covered in sweat, your lungs are burning, and your cock is rock hard as you close in for the kill. Except you don't have a cock anymore. You're not a male orc anymore. You're still sexually strong, but now you're a female orc, changed by a witch's magic. Instead of a semen giving cock, you have a life nurturing womb. An empty womb.

You jerk awake with a start. For a moment, you don't know where you are. There are large curtains in royal blue covering the windows. The bed you're in is a canopy bed with large wooden posts covered in intricate carvings of pastoral scenes. You didn't get a good look at it last night with Aknamar's distress distracting you. You shift in the bed and see the elf kin snoring gently beside you. He's your grandfather, you know. He sired your mother and is worthy of your respect. Still, he looks so cute as he sleeps.

Elves don't age like orcs do, so he still looks to be in his 20s. His long brown hair has no hint of gray. He has the same hair color as your mother and even looks a bit like her. He was six feet and ten inches tall when you saw him yesterday. Despite his age his body ripples with muscle and he looks like the picture of health. Your mother is the same way. She rarely gets sick, has the same hair, and the same startling green eyes that your grandfather does. The only difference is that your mother is five feet and nine inches tall. You're taller even as a woman. You're six foot and three inches now, which makes you taller than any female elf you've ever seen. Probably because you're not a female elf, you're a female orc. Something tells you that even though your gender has changed, your species hasn't. You may look like an olive-toned version of your mother, but you're all orc.

You slip out of bed and feel the rough texture of the rug beneath your bare feet. You pad quietly to the window and open the curtains a crack. It is still dark out, but the sun will soon rise. You get a clear view of the city with its many buildings and large wall. All is quiet, but your orc eyes can barely make out a few people moving along the streets below.

"Ronama," Aknamar's voice sounds behind you. You beam at him and he smiles slightly. "Seeing you there, bathed in the light of the stars, I almost mistook you for Seria, my daughter. You look like her a bit in the face, but your skin tone is too dark. Plus, I've never met an elf with hair like yours. It's so black it almost blends with the night."

"You flatter me, Your Majesty," you say as you let the curtains close behind you. You glide toward him, like you're stalking prey in the forest and don't want to make a sound. "I am honored that you let me share your bed, and as I said last night, I am honored to be your loyal listener, but I have to ask if that's all you want from me. If I may be so bold, Your Majesty, when I was shown to your private rooms, I thought you meant to bed me."

"I told you to call me Aknamar," Aknamar said with a frown. "Would that distress you? If I were to bed you, I mean. I'll admit, the thought crossed my mind. I have not taken another woman to bed since my wife's **** these many years ago," he continued, his eyes losing focus as if he were thinking of something else. "When I look at you, I am reminded of the women I have lost. My wife, my daughter, and yet your face comforts me. It is like having the both of them in my arms again. Perhaps I don't want to sully such a vision with something so base as sex."

"I am a virgin, Aknamar," you say. You shiver at the words. You never imagined losing your virginity as a woman. You always pictured yourself as the penetrator, not the penetratee, but your sex drive hasn't faded. You're just as horny now as you were yesterday, if not more so.

"I see. Perhaps it is for the best then if--"

"No!" you say, and then slap a hand over your mouth. Your body trembles and you close your eyes as the sudden rush of emotions you're feeling threaten to overwhelm you. "Please, Your Majesty, I mean Aknamar, please do not deny yourself to spare me. Please do not deny me."

"Deny you?" Aknamar says, his brows rising. "Ye gods, woman. Do you wish to bed me too?"

"I do, My Lord," You say, suddenly shy. You look down at your feet. You hear the rustling of covers as Aknamar rises to his feet. He pads toward you and places his hands on your shoulders.

Look at me, Ronama," he commands. You slowly raise your face, a strange hesitancy filling your soul. Aknamar's green eyes bore into your own and you shudder. "Ye gods," he whispers. "I do not know the secrets of my own heart. My body wants you, but does my heart? I have not loved in years. I feared I would never love again. Whatever this is, I'm not sure if it's love."

"Does it have to be?" you ask. "I have never felt such a strong physical attraction to a man before, Aknamar. I too, do not know the secrets of my heart. I don't know if I love you. I'm not sure if i know what love is, but I know I want you. Do you--" you begin but pause. You lick your lips, your mouth suddenly dry. Your palms are sweaty, your knees are weak and you hesitantly place your hands on his chest for support. Your hands look so tiny now. "Do you want me?" you ask, finally. The words threaten to stick in your throat, but you manage to **** them out. Aknamar smiles slightly.

"I do, Ronama. I do want you. Perhaps you're right. Perhaps we do not need to decide such weighty matters as heart and love right now. Tell me, Ronama. Have you ever heard the term concubine?"

"Um, no. What's that?" you ask.

"It is a position in the royal court. One that has remained vacant for centuries. The last elven king to have a concubine was my great-grandfather. A concubine is more than a mistress, but less than a wife. She caters to the needs of the king, both personal, and sexual," Aknamar says, and a shiver runs through your body. "Any children a concubine has is placed in the line of succession behind the official children with the wife. In the absence of the queen, she manages the royal household. She cleans the king's chambers, prepares the king's food when necessary, talks with the king, listens to the king, and shares a bed with the king.

"That sounds like a wife to me," you say with a frown. Aknamar chuckles. he moves his hands and grabs your, bringing them to his lips and gently kissing your knuckles.

"In many ways, a concubine is like a wife, but in the royal household she will always rank below the queen."

"But you don't have a queen," you say.

"No, I don't. I may never have another. I would like to marry to suit my own desires, but I'm afraid if I were to marry again it would have to be a political one. I can have as many concubines as I want, though. Become my concubine, Ronama, and we'll decide later if we love each other.