CHAPTER 17
She was straight off home after the shift, wife to unchain, dragon to feed, as Alun cheekily suggested. We had sat at our little tables all bloody day without budging, it seemed, as Chris bustled about with cups of tea and coffee, plates of biscuits and so on, at lunchtime taking everyone’s order for a run up to the canteen.

I could see what he was doing as a support worker, but it was more than that. I don’t think it was a cynical ploy on his part, but his comment about goats and arriving late came to mind. Get involved with us, become part of the team, and we’d feel more inclined to be punctual when it was needed. Whatever his reasons, he did help us markedly through the day.

Astrid works as a clerk in an unlicensed shop for magical potions.
Boring work except when customers return.

(short story: about 700 words)

Mercy can't ignore some questions about trickster mages any longer.
Good thing that her school trip leads her to an exhibit to trickster mages.
Or is it not ...?

Time for Penny to go under the Knife!

This is the story of Penny. A closet Transwoman thrust into the outside world 24-7 when she would rather go and hide away. Perhaps the title should be Welcome to Penny’s Paranoid World…

Promotion
by Ellie Dauber © 1999

Another old story posted here for the first time. This story is part of a set of stories about an old wizard named Stavros and his family that I'll be posting from time to time.

When Nick Lucas gets the promotion that Jeff Rayburn wanted, Jeff seeks a unique revenge.

Promotion
by Ellie Dauber © 1999

Jeff Rayburn's phone buzzed. “Yeah,” he said, leaning over his desk.

“Boss wants you in his office in five minutes,” came the voice of Janie, his secretary.

It's hard to cope with having your world view turned upside down. As crossdressers we all know society disapproves of us. We hide in closets, shop in catalogs or venture timidly to the women's section if suitably inspired. For those of us who are significantly over the norm in size it is a challenge to find a nice dress. That's the conventional wisdom, isn't it?

I am a reserve warden at the Spring Hill Academy about two hours southwest of London. The academy is on the border of Dorset and Somerset, less than fifteen miles from where those counties meet the eastern tip of Devon. The academy is about five miles from my home.

By reserve warden, I mean I am an extra person on a roving watch at the academy. There have been some nasty things going on there over the last six to nine months, and after I took in Penny and Jane who were students there, the headmistress roped me into helping her.