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From the lowest of the lowborn women to the highest noble classes, word spread: the prince was looking for an addition to his harem.

The gossip mills immediately started churning and didn't stop. Prince Orfeo was heir to the throne and, according to rumor, one that his iron-gripped father Tereus found decidedly lacking. The young tanuki was said to be lazy, cheerful, a bit dim, and something of a doormat--in a word, everything Tereus wasn't.

His Majesty the king was popular with the aristocracy, but among certain lowborn segments of the population, some called him Tereus the Tyrant.

Still, being added to the royal harem was nothing to scoff at, not even for a woman of noble lineage. Past kings had been heavily influenced by their concubines--the current king's great-grandfather had abolished the slave trade thanks largely to the advice of his favorite mistress--and even without the promise of power and influence, it was a life of indulgence and luxury, tempered only by the knowledge that you would be having sex at the royal whim. And was that so bad?

...of course, if the rumor mills were accurate, the reason why the harem was soliciting newcomers had to do with more than just sating youthful desires. Tereus wanted a lineage and was said to be dissatisfied that his son hadn't yet produced one.

Many royals had been born of concubines, so the situation was not without precedent. The woman recruited could expect to be bred.

That turned off a fair few women who were otherwise interested, but it just made one young kobold--Serafina the sapphire-scaled--all the more ready.

Serafina had lived her whole life on the streets of Braston, the kingdom's capital, and she knew first-hand how cold life there could be. She'd watched childhood friends disappear, lured away by false promises or succumbing to diseases that nobles received medicine for in a quick trip to the apothecary. She'd fought tooth and nail for scraps of food scarcely worth half a penny. She knew which parts of town to avoid at night lest you receive a knife between your ribs.

Many of the women applying for the audition would be highborn, or at least from comfortable backgrounds. If they didn't make it, they'd have someplace to fall back on; a net to catch them. Serafina had nothing but the streets, and she had no intention of going back.

A life of security and luxury? Holding the ear of the future king? It sounded like the perfect escape. And even the thought of bearing future heirs didn't dissuade her. After all, who would be more influential to a future king than the mother of his children? Plus, if she had to admit it... she didn't find the thought of being bred unappealing.

Reclining in the shade of an alcove, the blue-scaled kobold burned firemoss, the herb making her nerves dance and her lungs burn. She watched the acrid smoke drift up to the high stars above. The auditions were open to all, an opportunity that she could not recollect in her lifetime. She wasn't going to squander it.

The date approached and the women of Braston readied themselves--and not just them, either. From across the kingdom, noble trains began to drift in. Serafina watched them arrive with contempt. Haughty, pampered women carried in hansoms, fanned by fawning servants. They had likely never done anything close to a day's work in their life. Would they be up for bearing royal heirs? Was that really a burden they were prepared for? Serafina doubted it.

The trains came in escorted by heavy armed guards: dragonborn and orcs and half-orcs and jotuns, all burly and done up in armor. A little under two years ago, the caravan of a very influential noble's daughter had been set upon, and the women carried off--the young pandafolk heiress among them. None had ever been seen again. The event had shocked the kingdom, in part because of its brazenness, in part because of the high status of its victim; the pandafolk girl had been but a breath away from royalty. And though years had passed since that event, no noblewoman went anywhere on the highways without a veritable small army of guards.

Women on the streets vanish all the time, Serafina thought spitefully, reflecting on young women who disappeared, turning up days later dazed and used in alleyways--and those were the lucky ones. Yet no one breathes a word about us. The wagon train of one noble filed past her in the street, a hulking dragonborn shooting her a contemptuous gaze. She'd had kicks aimed at her by guards like that over the years. But one of their own falls prey, and years later they're still wringing their hands.

(Serafina didn't think the pandafolk--or any noblewoman, for that matter--had deserved the fate that likely befell her after her disappearance. She was not cruel, and the fact that such predations still occurred on the royal highways was one of several reasons why she held Tereus in low esteem. But she still found it hard to be anything but bitter when observing the disparity with which her own class was treated with theirs.)

But despite her low opinion of the highborn, as more and more of them arrived, Serafina had to admit something to herself: just in terms of presentability, she could not compare. A pampered life of perfumes and oils and silks made for a softer, more appealing specimen than her wiry frame that had grown lean and hard on the streets.

As audition day approached, Serafina gulped and decided to make a gamble.

Three silver crowns; all she had in the world. It was the amount a well-to-do shop could expect to make in a few days, but for her, it represented a lifetime of scrimping, saving, and careful planning. Serafina had never known a real family; her mother had been a brothel-worker who had succumbed to one of the illnesses which plagued her profession when the kobold was young. Afterwards, she had been turned onto the streets. She'd started from nothing, and for her, these three coins represented her life's work.

And to raise her chances with the prince, Serafina spent them.

The first crown was spent on a set of nice clothes. Not a noble's finery; a single crown was far from enough to buy such an outfit, and there was no point in pretending she was something she wasn't. She had no idea how to wear a gown, and anyone looking at her in such an outfit would recognize her as a pretender. But a set of clean new leathers, flatteringly cut, dyed a tinge of maroon to complement her cerulean scales? Yes, those would look presentable and send the desired message--I may be poor, but I have pride and the knowledge to use what I have.

Half a crown got her a week in a small but reputable boardinghouse, enjoying the rare feeling of a real bed at night. The day before the audition, she'd visited a bathhouse. There, she'd put the rest of her money to use. Her scales were scrubbed clean by the attendants until not even a speck of dirt or grime remained; oils were massaged into her skin, and she was touched up with a small shine that left a breath of luster to her scales. The halfling woman who attended to her--of an age to Serafina herself--had quickly struck up a friendship with the kobold, asking what this was all for.

Serafina hadn't felt the need to hold anything back.

"The prince's harem..." the young woman had breathed, rubbing Serafina's back with an oil-rich cloth. The kobold leaned into it; the slight pressure was heaven on her tight muscles. "You're braver than I am, miss, but I think you have a shot."

"You really think so?" Serafina had asked her.

"Better than those snooty, pompous--" the halfling began with fire, only to blush and look around sheepishly. Thankfully, they were in a side chamber, just the two of them. "I'd rather one of us catch the prince's ear, if you get my drift," she said.

Serafina nodded. She got her drift exactly.

"Plus," the young woman added, color touching her cheeks that couldn't exclusively be blamed on the bathhouse's heat, "I think you're very... um, what I mean to say is..."

Her words broke off with a gasp as Serafina curled her tail around the woman's leg. The kobold reached up to her chin and pulled her close. And, well, both of them found themselves very happy that they had the chamber to themselves.

Though Serafina had to be re-cleaned after.

The following morning, filled with energy and confidence from the previous day's liaison, Serafina donned her new leathers and strolled to the repurposed royal warehouse where the audition was being held. The exterior was a pell-mell mob of women. Predictably, the nobles were trying to harangue the others out of the way or bully their way to the front of the line--but for once, the king's guards treated them the same as they would anyone else, establishing order and quickly indicating that nobody was going to bend the rules in the face of royal authority. Seeing the pampered aristocrats skulking brought a smile to Serafina's face.

Hours trickled by and women filed one-by-one into the warehouse. Some emerged looking confused, others vaguely hopeful, but most looked angry and disappointed. Serafina forced herself to breathe. That wouldn't be her.

Somehow, she'd gotten herself stuck behind not one, not two, but three nobles. Two foxfolk and a dryad; each in their early twenties, so around her own age, each of them tittering and sniping at each other in that venomously sweet fashion that came natural to them. Though they were rivals, they made the occasional truce to look over their shoulders at Serafina and snicker contemptuously.

"One wonders why she bothered wasting her time," one of the foxfolk said in a stage whisper to a round of giggles.

Serafina flicked her tail at that but otherwise didn't respond. Before long, she followed them into the warehouse.

A makeshift wooden platform was set up as a stage, flanked by imposing guards. Most were bored-looking muscular men in armor, but one was one of the newer guards that had been spotted around the palace; a hulking beast-thing far larger than a man, covered in patchwork fur and scales and rippling with muscle. It had no visible weapons, but the wicked, scythe-like claws curving out of its paws were all the weapons it needed. Black mist vapored out of its mouth as it breathed, and its amber eyes, faintly glowing, didn't seem to need to blink. It was the first time Serafina had seen one up close; her heart nearly stopped at it. Even the fellow guards didn't seem to appreciate its presence.

Even so, the beastly sentinel kept still, looking unaggressive, and Serafina grew accustomed to its presence. More important was the lone figure seated in front of the stage: an aging, rose-scaled woman of Serafina's own race wearing fine robes and with a scholar's pair of half-moon glasses. The matron carried a long roll of parchment with a pen and a thoroughly bored expression.

"Next," she said, and the dryad stepped forward haughtily. "Dryad," she noted, scribbling something down on the parchment. "Known for their fertility. Very promising. Now--"

"Where's Orfeo?" the dryad demanded, voice shrill. "I came to present myself to him!"

Serafina marveled at the young woman's stupidity. There had been hundreds, perhaps thousands of women lining up to present themselves, and statistics alone all but guaranteed that most would be poor fits. Did she really expect the prince to suffer through each one? Of course they would have someone weed out all but the best before bringing him in.

The madame sighed, and with the air of bored recitation began: "His Highness will be presented with anyone I deem appropriate--"

"Like some jumped-up iguana makes a good judge!" the dryad cut in. Serafina's nostrils flared at the use of the slur sometimes directed against her people, but the pink-scaled kobold showed no reaction.

"Her ladyship will leave now," she said, nodding at the guards. "Thank you for your application."

The dryad tensed. "Now see here--"

At the edge of the room, the monstrous guard shifted and rumbled a single low growling note; the dryad immediately cut off, her face going chalk-white. Stumbling over herself, she made for the exit.

"Next," the madame said, and one of the other nobles stepped up. She met the madame's eyes and flipped a demure curtsy.

"Foxfolk," the kobold noted, writing something with her pen. "Looks young and healthy." She glanced up. "Disrobe."

The noble gave a small start and glanced at the guards. "I... but..."

The kobold sighed. "Prudishness? In a concubine? I think not. Next."

The noblewoman all but bolted for the exit, looking angry and flustered, as the final woman stepped up. The kobold scribbled something down and repeated the command: "Disrobe." The other foxfolk obeyed, carefully peeling off her clothes. If it was meant to be enticing, it wasn't; it was laborious and uncertain, the opposite of sexy or sultry. The madame all but rolled her eyes.

When she was finished, the fox set her clothes carefully aside and stood bare naked before the madame. At the kobold's urging, she slowly spun around, giving the whole room a view of every angle.

Serafina--who enjoyed a good woman just as much as a good man--had to admit the noble had a decent body, but... nothing resembling allure or sensuality. She moved with the uncertainty of one who had never tried to really flaunt her body before.

And it seemed she was not the only one who thought so. "Healthy," the madame noted. "But thoroughly uninspiring. Next."

"Uninspiring? You--" the noble cut off with a glance at the guards and, gathering her clothes in her arms, set off for the back of the warehouse in a huff, where she began the laborious process of putting them back on.

The matron glanced at Serafina and nodded her forward.

Squaring her shoulders, the kobold strutted out--and then, without waiting for the command, she stripped in a flash.

She'd barely given her new leathers a second or two to show off, but she still considered the silver crown to be money well spent. For something like this, every possible advantage counted.

Unlike the previous girls, Serafina stood bare and confident, tail swishing behind her as she showed off what she had. Though humanoid, she was reptilian, not a mammal, and had a flat chest with smooth scales on the front. She had long lost any preoccupation with her lack of breasts, however. She knew what her advantages were and how to use them.

Strutting confidently, she moved like a cat, all poise and personality, making sure the movements drew attention to her long, claw-tipped legs and shapely hips. The madame looked at her with interest.

"Subject is confident," she noted. "Good. And a kobold--pregnancies usually result in a clutch. Maximizes the chance of receiving an appropriate heir. Looks clean and healthy."

Striking an alluring pose, completely unbothered by the flagrant looks the guards were giving her, Serafina shot a private prayer of thanks towards the halfling from yesterday. She only wished she'd had more to pay the young woman... well, their afternoon of pleasure would have to do.

The madam watched Serafina's moves for a moment, nodded again, and shot her a genuine-looking smile. "Are you a virgin, young lady?"

Well, damn. That was sudden. If penny-books about harems told true, virgins were in high demand. But there would be no keeping that a secret...

"No," she replied without apology.

The madame nodded. "Good. His Highness prefers women with experience." She scribbled something down as Serafina felt a wave of relief. "Your name?"

"Serafina."

"Yes, yes, good." Reptilian eyes peered at her over the half-moon spectacles. "Return here the day after tomorrow at ten in the morning, sharp. Prince Orfeo will be looking at you himself."

One of the guards whistled, another stamped his spear butt against the ground in appreciation, and the foxfolk noble at the back gave a sharp, offended gasp. Serafina smiled and reclined her head. "I'll be here."

Gathering her leathers and hoisting them over her shoulder, Serafina hopped off the stage and sauntered towards the exit in the warehouse's back, still clad in nothing but her scales. Save the madame and the beastly guard, all eyes were on her, and she smirked.

The foxfolk noble, only just finished redressing, was standing by the exit, looking at Serafina with a visage that mixed envy and anger. Feeling impetuous, Serafina wiggled her hips at her, then winked and blew the noble an impish kiss.

"A gift, so you didn't completely waste your time," she purred, delighting in the outraged look on the fox's face. "And maybe some talent will rub off on you. But who knows? I'm just a whore's daughter. What could I possibly teach a blueblood?"

The foxfolk sputtered wordlessly in impotent rage as some of the guards snickered, and then Serafina, feeling buoyantly brave, strolled out of the warehouse--still unclad.

The assembled women gasped at her nakedness, but Serafina didn't care. Let these vacuous wallflowers try and show her up. She strutted, naked and confident, a daredevil grin on her face, the result of her audition plain for all to see.

They had nothing on her. None of them did.

---

She spent the following day to herself in the boardinghouse, resting and readying, and was wide awake when the first sliver of dawn broke over the rooftops. Though she had kept her success to herself, somehow the knowledge had spread, and the whole boardinghouse was up to see her off, hooting and cheering her on. "Show them the liveliness of a street girl!" "Give His Highness my regards, bwaha!" "Put a kobold on the throne!" "We believe!" Their energies impelled her onward, and she strolled through the streets radiating confidence. She arrived at the warehouse a full half-hour early.

She was not the only one. There was just shy of a score of women there. Serafina could tell immediately that she was the only one who came from the streets. About half had the refined and calculating air of nobles, and the others looked like a mix of guardswomen, adventurers, and members of merchant houses. A variety of races were represented. Despite Serafina's low status, there was no repeat of yesterday's condescension. Every woman there understood that simply being called in meant she was among the best of the best, and regardless of status or background, it would behoove them to consider the others genuine rivals.

As the madame had instructed, the warehouse opened at ten sharp. As Serafina and the others filed in, a commotion rose from outside; another noblewoman, looking quite a bit more pompous than those lined up to go in, had tried to join the line and was being dragged away.

"That iguana was wrong!" the young woman screeched. "If the prince could only see me--! Unhand me you--!"

The guardsmen threw her unceremoniously into a pile of muck and the watching citizenry erupted into satisfied laughter.

"Take it up with the king if you don't like it, luv," one of the guards, a gnoll, told her as she broke down over her soiled gown. "We's just doin' our job."

Shaking her head at some people's foolishness, Serafina moved on into the hall.

Inside was the stage, set up as before. There were far more guards than last time, including at least three of the monstrous sort. Sitting in the front was the rose-scaled kobold and--

Her breath caught. Him. The prince.

He was short and a touch chubby; that wasn't a surprise. He was a tanuki and for them, like the pandafolk, a lack of pudge was the exception, not the norm. He wore understated yet finely made clothes of forest green interlaid with giltwork in gold thread, and seemed to be alert. When he spotted the women lining at the edge of the stage, he smiled and waved congenially; something told Serafina it was not an affectation. She smiled back and then cast her eyes down to his loins. Ah... his clothes were tailored to not draw attention, but the famed tanuki package was still apparent if you were looking. Serafina all but licked her lips. Now that was delectable.

"I see everyone is here," the madame said. "Good. I will call your names and you will present yourself to the prince. You may speak in moderation, but any interference with or insults towards the other auditioners, deviation from my or the prince's requests, or misbehavior of any sort will result in immediate expulsion. In addition, to make things entirely clear: this is an audition for the prince's harem." Her eyes were flinty and merciless over her spectacles as she bored her gaze into each one of them. "You are not auditioning to be the prince's wife or queen. Those of you without titles will not receive one, and those of you with them will surrender them, alongside all allegiance to your former house. Your job will be to service the prince whenever he wishes. The role is for life. The prince may dismiss you if he wishes, but if you have second thoughts later, departure is not for you to decide."

"Oh, but if you really don't--" Orfeo began only to trail off feebly when the madame fixed him with a withering glare.

"And lastly," she said, enunciating clearly, "your role will also be to bear the prince's heirs. This is not optional. King Tereus wishes to see the royal line secure, and you are expected to provide at least one heir by the time a year has passed--and will likely provide a few more for security's sake. Now." She tapped her pen against the parchment. "With that in mind, this is your last chance to leave. There is no shame in doing so. If you stay, it is with the knowledge that if you are chosen, a life in the harem and all that I mentioned are what awaits you."

After a moment's pause, three of the noblewomen made to leave, one curtsying on her way out. The madame waved them lazily away and Orfeo nodded after them. "No hard feelings," he said as a guardsman shut the door behind them. "Now, uh..." He grinned bashfully. "Who's first?"

The madame glanced at her parchment.

"Mistress Madris," she said.

An orcish guardswoman strode onto the stage with the air of a confident predator. Without waiting for a command, she immediately tore her armor free, showing off a body rippling with muscles. Serafina had to admit, Madris's chiseled abs and deliciously sculpted biceps were beyond enticing. She performed a handstand, her greenish breasts tugged down by gravity, sparkling with sweat--and then raised one of her hands from the stage. With impressed gasps from the women and guardsmen, Madris slowly flexed her remaining arm up and down, lifting her body, before tumbling forward and gracefully catching herself on the soles of her feet. Serafina was impressed. The orc knew exactly what she was: she wasn't acting alluring, sensual, or traditionally feminine. Her main draw was strength, and she was showing it off--and making the implicit promise that any future heirs would share in that strength. Overall, a solid performance.

Orfeo clapped and the madame nodded to a small, cushioned area in the back for the auditioners to wait. Madris gathered her equipment and, without bothering to strap it back on, she made for it.

"Lady Helmi," the kobold said, and one of the noblewomen--a tanuki herself, like the prince--sashayed out. Like Madris, she stripped without encouragement. What was left was an enticingly plump body with a very generous bosom. Helmi strutted across the stage, sashaying as she did so, every move making her soft rolls jiggle. Her tail was done up with a small bell that jingled as she walked.

The prince didn't seem displeased, and he murmured something to the kobold. She nodded, thanked Helmi, and also bade her to visit the cushioned box. The tanuki strode back without complaint.

Five more women were called afterwards. One was a rake-thin but elegant noblewoman who recited poetry as she moved slowly across the stage; another noble spoke of being the youngest of seventeen children, asserting she'd inherited her mother's fertility. After this came a goblin who showed an incredible level of flexibility, a ratkin noblewoman who had saw fit to frame her womanhood in rubies, and an elephant merchant's daughter who boasted, quite frankly, the best set of tits that Serafina had ever seen.

And then it was her turn.

"Mistress Serafina," the madame said, and she strolled out, projecting calm and confidence. It was true--today's competition was far stiffer. Yet despite that, Serafina knew that she had this. Why? Well--if Madris failed to impress the prince, she would return to a life manning guardposts, a position of relative financial security and power over the common man. The merchant's daughter would take over her father's shop or marry someone with deep pockets. Each of the nobles would return to palatial estates and lavish lives.

Serafina, however, had no such thing to return to. Only the streets that had swallowed her friends and chewed up her mother. She wasn't going back.

And that certainty, that lack of options, gave her fire.

Immediately, she cast her leathers aside, showing off her scales, wrapping her tail around herself; she let it snake past her generous hips, turning to show them off to the prince, an invisible promise for healthy childbearing; the tip of her tail dipped between her legs and touched her womanhood, making her blush and moan.

Orfeo leaned forward with interest, and his eyes met hers--and as an invisible tension roared between them, Serafina immediately knew that she had to seize this. Splaying forward on her stomach, she kicked her hindpaws up, matching the prince's gaze with a sultry one of her own. Her tail dipped over her head, the tip glistening, and she sucked on it with a brief shudder that was entirely unfeigned.

Some of her fellow applicants had tried to hint at sex, but none quite so overtly at this--and from the bulge that was quickly growing noticeable in his tailored trousers, it seemed the prince approved.

Serafina rolled onto her back, never breaking gazes with the prince, and licked her lips delectably. Then she rose. She was no demure aristocrat, but she knew how to show off what she had. Her movement was downright effervescent, a whipcord display of precision as she effortlessly rose up and showed off her hips, her ass, her tail, casting an alluring gaze over her shoulder at the prince as she ground her hands up her sides before caressing herself tightly. On the streets, you had to move with purpose--with enough strength to let others know you weren't to be fucked with, yet not so much that you invited others to try themselves against you. The resulting balance was a lean waltz of confidence and certainty that she traced, step over step, along the edge of the stage, always mindful to keep her profile on display. The prince followed her every move with open eyes.

Locking gazes with him as she did so, Serafina thought she understood Orfeo. He was no genius, but he had a level of forthrightness and naivete that was entirely unlike what she'd expected of a child of Tereus's. (Small wonder the king was displeased.) But the prince was also hungry for sex and physical allure, and she could tell that her movements sated that desire and more.

Acting more on instinct than anything, Serafina then did something very foolish. She hopped off the stage and sauntered toward him.

The guards started and the madame opened her mouth to condemn, but Orfeo silenced them all with one raised paw as he rose to meet her. The madame reluctantly quieted herself and the guardsmen didn't move, though they had their spears trained on her. Serafina didn't care. She slowly wound towards the prince, clad in nothing but scales and attitude, as he made his way down to her. They met halfway, neither moving for a breath, but then Serafina reached over to trace one claw along his collarbone, the fur impossibly silken and the flesh underneath girded with a pleasing mix of muscle and softness. As she moved, her tail wound around his ankle, and she squeezed tight as the same time she reached her hand up to his face.

Never breaking eye contact with him, the kobold pulled in the prince, both their breaths hot, their faces so close they could feel one another's heat, and he opened his mouth readily--

Only for her to push him teasingly away before their mouths could meet, her eyes sunlit and radiant, sparking with impish delight. Yes, this was a man who wanted his paramour to call the shots, and she was okay with that.

Smirking, she made to go away, but one regal paw snapped out to catch her wrist.

"Wait," he said. "Please don't--"

"If you want me," Serafina purred, resting her free hand on her smooth-scaled chest, "then you know exactly what you need to do... my liege."

Breath hissed out of Orfeo, the only sound in the chamber. You could otherwise have heard a pebble rolling; even the beastly guards were quiet. "...yep," he said after a moment. Casting his gaze aside, he pitched his voice for the chamber: "I've made my decision!"

The madame frowned in consternation as the women who hadn't been called yet erupted in dismay, but he again silenced them with a raised hand. "I'm sorry," he said, "but I know what I like, and this... uh..."

"Serafina," she supplied, amused rather than offended that he hadn't remembered something mentioned a scant minute ago.

"Serafina," he agreed, "is what I like. I won't waste all of our times." He glanced at the madame. "See that all the applicants are compensated for their trouble. Ten--no, make it fifteen--silver crowns apiece should be plenty."

She pushed up her glasses with the base of her palm. "Your father did not approve such expenditure."

"Then take it out of my personal coffers," he said airily, with the air of a man for whom fifteen crowns nearly two dozen times over was an expense already forgotten. Then he beamed. "Ladies, you all did great--erm, the ones I got to see, at least--and I wish you the best of luck." He turned his attention back to Serafina. "Now..."

Smirking, she gripped his face again and pulled him in--for real this time. And as the guardsmen shepherded out the adventurers and guardswomen, the merchants and noble's daughters, right in front of them, a kobold with scarcely a penny to her name--a street brat, lowborn, child of a whore--passionately kissed the son of the king.