"Daddy! Daddy!" Miranda excitedly ran into her father's study, clutching a sheet of paper in her hand.

"What is it, honey? Did you hear from one of those places where you applied for a job?"

Gerald Peters fervently hoped it was about a job. His daughter had her hopes set on a career as a model, a dream that Gerald didn't consider realistic and one he had tried to gently discourage while still trying to seem supportive of his daughter's goals. Getting her to send out resumes and applications for employment to large companies along with the current batch of photographs and measurements to agencies and magazines had been a hard-won compromise. Ever since she did that lingerie layout for a clothing catalog, he'd had a hard time steering her back on track for a 'real' job.

"No, Daddy. It's from Stallion Magazine. They're considering me for a job as one of their Stallion Girls."

"What's that?"

"I guess it's like a promotional model. That means I'd get to travel around and represent them at shows and events and stuff. This is great! This is just what I hoped for!"

"'Stallion'? I'm not familiar with that one," Gerald said. "Is that some kind of men's magazine?"

"I think so." Miranda said. "But even if it is, it doesn't matter."

"But honey..."

"Daddy, we talked about this. A lot of modeling is figure work. Much of that is either bikini or nude. I do zumba and jazzercise regularly. My stomach is flat and my legs are killer. I've worked really hard to keep my body in shape and I don't have a problem with people admiring it."

"I know I promised not to bug you about that." Gerald had a hard time saying 'no' to his daughter. It would have been different if she'd been born a boy. He thought he could have been tougher with a son. He'd had a hard time handling her ever since her mother passed away when Miranda was ten. Ever since then, she'd been Daddy's Girl, and she could wheedle him into giving her anything she wanted, even if he thought it was completely impractical.

Maybe this Stallion Girl thing was as 'real' a job as Miranda could hope to get. She'd barely graduated from high school and had neither the grades nor the test scores to get accepted at a decent college. Gerald decided it couldn't hurt to let her follow her dream a little longer before trying to talk her into going to a trade school and learning to be a beautician, a dental assistant, or some career that might actually earn her a living. At least until she matured enough to start choosing boyfriends for their potential as husbands instead of their physical appearance or suitability as fashion accessories.

"All right, honey," he said, trying to sound upbeat about it, "Where is the interview and when do you have to be there?"

The offices of Stallion Magazine turned out to be a good bit nicer than the sleazy back-room outfit Gerald had expected. Instead of in a dirty alley or over a pawn shop, they were in a new office complex in an upscale part of the city. He saw from the directory that they actually occupied over half the building they were in, with the rest divided between a national brokerage company and a local law firm.

The receptionist was pleasant and professional. She welcomed both of them and asked them to take seats in the lobby while she let someone know Miranda had arrived for her interview.

Sitting on a couch he thought might be real leather, Gerald looked around at the décor. There were horse statues and horse photographs and horse paintings everywhere. He thought they might be overdoing the horse-theme just a little, but he was relieved that he didn't have to sit and stare at photographs of naked girls while his daughter was sitting next to him. It would have been embarrassing if he were to have an erection under those circumstances. Horses were safe, at least.

It was bad enough that Miranda had dressed for the occasion. Expecting to be judged on her figure, she had nearly gone to extremes to show it off. She had on shoes with heels he thought were too high to be safe to walk in, but he knew she thought they drew attention to her rear end. To show off her tanned skin, she'd worn a white dress with a neckline that clearly showed she wasn't wearing a brassiere under it. The dress fit her like a glove, and it only came down to mid-thigh. When she sat down, Gerald saw that it rode up high enough for him to wonder if she had on any underwear at all.

Fortunately for Gerald, the wait wasn't very long. The man who came out to greet them looked to be in his late thirties and seemed very professional.

"Good morning! I'm Larry Richards. I'm the Promotions Manager. You must be Miranda Peters."

"Yes!" Miranda said, cheerfully. "And this is my father."

Richards seemed surprised that Gerald had accompanied his daughter to her interview. His smile wavered briefly, but he carried on and shook Gerald's hand with a firm grip.

"Mr. Peters, pardon my surprise, but we don't get many fathers who bring their daughters to us. I'm sure Miranda appreciates your support. However, you understand that you will have to wait here while we talk to Miranda alone."

"Yes, I understand," Gerald said. "Honey, I'll be right here when you're finished."

Richards smiled and led Miranda through a door behind the receptionist's desk. Gerald sat down to wait, determined not to pick up any of the 'reading material' on the table.

Richards led Miranda into a small meeting room where another man was waiting.

"Miranda, this is Herman Pruett," Richards said, "Mr. Pruett is our Managing Editor. He'll be making the final decision on you becoming a Stallion Girl."

"Hello, Mr. Pruett," Miranda said, politely.

Pruett was a rangy man in his late forties with a deep tan and weathered skin. Miranda thought he looked more like a farmer than an editor. In her limited experience, editors were pasty-skinned men with glasses who peered at you with judgmental eyes. Pruett definitely didn't match her expectation.

"Hello Miranda," Pruett said. "Thank you for coming in to meet with us. I have to say, you are just the kind of girl we are looking for – young, fresh, healthy, clear-eyed, and, of course, an excellent figure. Double-D, isn't it?"

"Thank you, sir. Actually, I'm an F-cup, and all natural."

"Even better! I take it that you're familiar with our publication?"

Miranda nodded. She could hardly admit that she'd never seen a copy of the magazine, much less read one. She'd been far too nervous to even look at one of the copies on the table in the lobby.

"Then you know that each year we pick one candidate to become our Stallion Girl. The girl selected will have many obligations and responsibilities and we expect her to take these seriously. We will be making almost as big a commitment to you as you will be to us. You'll be traveling extensively at our expense. In addition to your base pay, you will receive a per diem to take care of any personal expenses while you're on the road."

"I understand, sir."

"Do you have any questions for us?" Richards asked her.

"No, I, uh, what about wardrobe?"

Pruett and Richards shared a look that Miranda thought meant she'd asked something dumb.

"That won't be an issue," Richards explained. "You'll be doing all your work for us in the nude."

"Oh! Of course!" Miranda said. "Silly question."

"We know we're asking a lot of you and the job pays accordingly. How does ninety-five thousand sound? Before you answer, let me tell you that the year thing is not a fixed term. If you do the job well, we may keep you on longer before we put you out to pasture, so to speak."

Miranda had never expected such a generous amount. She was nearly speechless.

"That sounds fine," she said after swallowing hard.

"Very well. Since you're the last applicant we have for the job, I hope you don't mind if we make our decision today?" Pruett told her. "Just give us a few minutes and we'll be right back."

"Sure!"

Miranda could hardly believe her luck. If they were going to make a decision while she waited, it mean there was a very good chance she'd get the job.

It seemed more than the few minutes that Pruett promised, but when he and Richards came back, Richards was carrying a pile of papers. Miranda saw this as a good sign.

"Congratulations, Miranda," Richards said. "We have decided that you are the best candidate for the position. Now, we just have some paperwork to get through."

"And one final question," Pruett said. "Are you willing to get started right away? I mean immediately."

"Of course!" Miranda told him. "I'm ready right now if you like."

The paperwork was much more tedious than the simple contract and release-forms she'd had to sign for the catalog job. For every paper she signed, there were always three places she needed to initial. Miranda thought of the money she'd make and how this was the big break she'd wanted and she ignored the way her hand felt like it was about to cramp.

When the pile had finally been turned over, Richards brought in a tray with three glasses. He gave one to Miranda and another to Pruett and raised his own.

"To our new Stallion Girl!"

Miranda thought her drink tasted flat and a little strange, but she was thirsty from all the talking and she swallowed every drop.

"Wonderful!" Pruett said. "Now we'd like to introduce you around the office, if you don't mind."

"Sure!" Miranda said. Getting out of the small room sounded like a good idea to her. It seemed like she'd been in there forever.

Everyone Miranda met seemed happy to see her. They all shook her hand and many said how lucky they were to have her join the team. Some of the women even hugged her and told her how much they admired her. Miranda tried to remember their names and faces, but she seemed to be having trouble concentrating.

After the first row of offices, Miranda began to notice an odd feeling of warmth between her legs. It felt just like the way she felt when she played with herself and made her clit get stiff. She did her best to ignore it, but it kept getting worse until the warm feeling was replaced by one of fullness and then pressure.

"This is a totally inappropriate reaction," she thought. "I shouldn't be getting turned-on like this. Not now. Unless this is some strange reaction to the excitement. It has been a while since I had an orgasm. Maybe I'm just overdue and this is just my body's way of expressing it. I'll have to do my best to ignore it."

Miranda did do her best, but the feeling wouldn't go away. Instead, it seemed to be getting worse by the second. Determined not to let this ruin the moment for her, she smiled and carried-on, like the 'little trooper' her father used to call her. She kept her head high and her back straight and walked tall and proud while things got steadily worse under her dress.

"It feels like my panties are too tight," she decided. "That can't be. These are brand new. I bought them to wear with this dress so I wouldn't have a panty-line show. They're only a couple of strings and a tiny triangle of fabric. How can they be getting tight?"

She took a deep breath to try to calm herself and made another discovery.

"Damn, now my dress feels tight too! It feels like I've suddenly put on weight. That's not possible. I only had yogurt for breakfast."

Miranda glanced down at her chest. As she took a breath, the swell of her breasts under the snug garment was much more obvious than when she'd put it on that morning. Even with her lungs empty of air, they still looked like they wanted to pop out of her neckline. Her breasts felt like they were being squeezed together.

Her palms felt damp. To dry them, she put her hands on her hips and rubbed them on the thin fabric. As she did, she felt her fingertips slide off the dress and onto her thighs much sooner than they should have.

"Now my dress is riding up!" she realized.

She tried to be casual about tugging it back down, but the dress seemed to have a mind of its own. No matter how much she pulled, it kept wanting to slide back up. Worse, every time she yanked on it, it made the pressure in her clit worse.

"Maybe I should just leave it alone," she thought. "Maybe no one will notice. Yeah, right. They're all checking me out top to bottom. I'm their new Stallion Girl. They're all probably wondering what I look like naked. After all, that's how everyone will be seeing me from now on. In that case, I really shouldn't worry about what they see now."

Freed of the worry about hiding, Miranda was able to make it through two more introductions before a new problem surfaced.

"What is that now? I feel bloated all of a sudden. Is that gas? My God, I hope I don't break wind! That would be mortifying! Oh no! It's getting worse! I don't know what's worse, the pressure in my clit or the gas! Maybe I should ask them to let me go to the restroom."

"Excuse me, Mr. Richards?" Miranda whispered. "I need to go to the ladies room, if you don't mind."

Richards took a step back and looked at her, making Miranda wonder what that was all about.

"Feeling some pressure and bloating?" he asked.

Miranda nodded, wondering how the heck he could have known what she was feeling. Could she have been that obvious?

"That's normal. Don't worry. You're right on schedule."

Miranda was totally perplexed. What was normal? Nothing about this situation was normal. And what did he mean by saying she was 'on schedule'? She let Richards take her arm and lead her to the next room nonetheless.

Instead of an office, the next room looked more like a laboratory. There were tables and benches and equipment and computers all over. There were refrigerators and shelves of glassware along the side walls. Five people looked up from their work when Pruett and Richards led her in.

"People," Pruett called out to be heard across the large space, "This is Miranda, our new Stallion Girl. She's just started."

Miranda was surprised to see that these people were much more excited to meet her than anyone else. Everyone in the room crowded forward to get a good look at her. She found it odd that the first thing they all seemed to want to look at was the spot between her legs.

"Has my dress slid up too far?" She wondered. "Are they looking at my little panties?"

She tried once more to push her dress down. This time, when she pushed, she felt something move. Something really unexpected. It felt almost as if her clit had slipped out of her panties and dropped to hang down between her legs. The sensation was so improbable that she instantly decided she'd misinterpreted it. Her clit could not possibly be dangling between her legs. And certainly not as far down as it felt like it was.

The cheer that went up in the room startled and shocked her. Everyone started congratulating each other. One man looked at his watch and made a notation on a clipboard.

Richards patted her on the back. "You're doing great! At the rate you're going, you'll be the best Stallion Girl yet. These people are excited because they are the team who developed the serum that made that possible. Now we better get you to the big conference room where everyone can watch your development."

Serum? Development? Miranda was so confused that she didn't know what part of what was happening to her she should worry about first. She let them lead her into a big room with a podium on a platform at the end. They moved the podium out of the way and put her up where everyone could see her.

From up there she could see the room fill with everyone she'd met and lots of people she hadn't. The last person she saw come through the door was her father. She waved to him and he waved back, but then she saw him get a strange look, as if he was as puzzled as she was.

Gerald Peters decided he needed new glasses. He couldn't be seeing what he thought he'd seen. It just wasn't possible, so it must be his eyes were playing tricks on him.

To Gerald's left, people in white coats started drawing a grid on the white-board on the wall. As he watched, they filled it in with numbers from ten to forty and started collecting money. When someone gave them a bill, they wrote a name down next to a number. Gerald had participated in enough office pools to recognize what they were doing – betting on the outcome of something. What, he couldn't guess.

Pruett stepped up onto the platform beside Miranda. "Would you like to get out of that dress now?" He asked. "Wouldn't you be more comfortable?"

Miranda's head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. Her ears's buzzed and she felt a wave of heat surge through her body. She took a couple of deep breaths to clear her head. It helped.

"Why not?" Miranda thought. "I suppose they deserve to see what they're getting for their money. And since I agreed to the nudity, I guess I can't very well act shy now. She nodded to Pruett and turned her back to him so he could help with the zipper.

Pruett pulled the zipper down all the way to the stop just above her butt. Miranda peeled her dress down to her waist and took a deep breath. When she looked down, she could tell right away that her boobs were bigger than they had been when she'd put the dress on. Probably one, and maybe two sizes bigger, she thought.

"No wonder it felt tight," she thought. She rocked her hips to work the dress down over them, ignoring the obviously bogus sensations she was getting from her clit. When the dress was free, she let it drop around her ankles. Then she stepped out of it, and Pruett bent down to pick it up.

"No sense standing here in just my panties," Miranda thought. "I'm going to be spending a lot of time naked from now on, so I may as well get used to it.

She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her skimpy panties and started to pull them down. It was when she bent over to tug them down past her thighs than she got the shock of her life. There, hanging between her legs, was a piece of pink flash easily ten inches long. It still felt like her clit, but looked like something totally else.

Miranda had no trouble identifying the object. She'd seen, handled, and enjoyed several of the things. "It's a cock," she thought. "I've grown a cock."

What should have been shocking news, simply left her numb. In a moment of illusory clarity, she decided to postpone dealing with the information and move on to the secondary question of why this looked so different from those cocks with which she'd been intimately acquainted, yet still seemed strangely familiar.

Her new appendage had a thicker layer of skin down half it's length. A ridge separated the thicker, section from the part with thinner, more sensitive skin. The end was even stranger than the rest. With a wide, thick rim and a central depression surrounding the usual hole at the tip, it seemed vaguely familiar, yet utterly alien all at once. After a few seconds more of staring, she had it.

"Horsecock." She thought. The word springing into her head. "I have a horse's cock instead of a clit now. Well, how about that?"

Miranda stood up and kicked her underwear to one side. When she stood up straight, the room erupted in applause and cheering.

"They didn't cheer for my boobs," Miranda thought, "but they're plenty excited about my cock. What the hell is going on?" Despite her confusion, she remembered to turn her hips slowly back and forth to give everyone in the room a good look at the thing between her legs.

At the same time, Miranda's father was asking one of the men in white lab-coats about his daughter's new organ.

"It's her horsecock," he was told with a look that said he should have known that. "Want to get a bet down on how big it will get?"

His mind refused to accept the explanation. It simply refused to acknowledge something that absurdly preposterous, and instead left it sitting on the surface of his consciousness like a bead of water on a sheet of glass. Gerald grabbed at the only part of what he'd heard that he could accept. He looked at the white-board. Most of the guesses were clustered in the mid and upper 20s. His mind felt numb, but he pointed at a number no one had picked yet. "Thirty-three," he said and reached for his wallet.

"Thirty-three? Man, that would be down to her ankles! We've never had one go that big. But thanks for the good thought."

His daughter was also having trouble comprehending what was happening to her. With a room-full of people watching her, she fell back on her training. Leaving her hips in profile, she turned her shoulders toward the room and put her hands on her hips while tightening her abs. Even though her boobs weren't that interesting to her audience, she still pulled her shoulders back to get them as high on her chest as she could.

Tightening her stomach muscles made her cock swing up, then back to bump into her leg. It felt to her like it was hitting a lot lower now. Before, it had been down to just above her knee. Now, it was easily below the kneecap.

"Damn, I'm better hung than Barry Stovall!" She thought, recalling her current boyfriend, and one of the few who had impressed her in bed. "And it's still growing! How much bigger can it get?"

With her new cock crawling slowly downward, Miranda turned her attention to her other problem. "The pressure inside me is getting worse. It feels like I need to go to the bathroom, but it's not where that feeling should be. This is more ... oh, my God, it's in my pussy! There is something in there and I think it wants to get out!"

Without meaning to, Miranda found herself bending forward in response to the pressure. It was a bad break in modeling form, but she couldn't help herself.

Richards noticed her discomfort. "They're about to drop!" He announced over the noise in the room. Immediately, everyone got quiet and turned their attention on Miranda.

"Excuse me," Gerald said to the man in the white coat. "I'm new here. What's about to drop?"

"Her testicles, of course. Can't have a stallion with no balls, can we?"

"No, I suppose not." Gerald admitted, and turned back to watch. With reality apparently crumbling around him, he watched his daughter change into a real Stallion Girl.

"Turn around," Richards told Miranda. "Bend over and spread your feet apart. Squat a little. That will make it easier."

Miranda did as he said. She looked back up at him to see if he had any other useful tips for her.

"When you feel one of them start to come through, push hard" he said.

"One of them?" Miranda thought. "There's more than one?"

Miranda felt the pressure suddenly turn into a sharp pain. She pushed down as hard as she could and held it. The pain spiked to the worst she'd ever felt, then something popped out of her pussy and dropped ... except it didn't.

Expecting whatever it was to drop out of her and hit the floor, Miranda was startled when the pain easing was followed by a tug, as if whatever had come out had been caught by something. She was just starting to bend down to have a look when the pain hit her again.

"Unnnnnnnghhhh!" She grunted. Richards was right. There was another. And this one hurt even more than the first. Miranda took a huge breath and bore down as hard as she could. It seemed to take forever, but the second one came free just like the first. And just like the first, it fell down, but not onto the floor.

The crowd in the room began cheering again. Miranda wanted to turn around and acknowledge the applause, but first she had to know what the hell had just happened to her. She bent down far enough to be able to peek past the slab of meat hanging from her groin and saw between her legs the sack of wrinkled skin holding her testicles.

"I'm not a girl anymore" was her first thought. "I still feel like a girl, though. I have girl hair, girl face, girl legs and a girl tush. I still think I look good in heels. I still have boobs. Bigger boobs, even. My clit still feels like a clit, but it's a cock. Or should I start calling it my dick? And I have a set of testicles now. That doesn't feel like anything I've felt before. What the hell have they done to me?"

Miranda put a hand between her legs behind her cock and felt for something she suspected she wouldn't find. "My pussy is gone. My balls dropped out of it and it closed-up. This is too weird. I've obviously gone seriously crazy. The men in white coats will be coming for me any minute now. Except that they're standing right over there. And they seem very happy with what I've become. Am becoming. Damn! This stuff is still growing!"

In her present doubled-over position, Miranda could clearly see that her cock was now down to mid-calf and still slowly getting longer. And thicker. With no real way to judge it's size, she guessed that the narrow part was thicker than her economy-size can of hairspray and the thickest part was as wide as her calf-muscle. When she put her hand around the base of it, her fingers missed meeting by a wide margin. She'd just be able to encircle it with both hands.

Miranda straightened-up and learned her first lesson about having a scrotum with two sensitive organs in it – don't mash them between your legs.

"Ow, ow, ow!" She said softly. When learning to model, she'd been taught to keep her feet together, that doing that looked more feminine than taking a wide stance. "Screw that, then," she thought as she moved her feet, being careful not to turn her ankles by falling off her high-heeled shoes. "Got to leave room for the boys," she laughed, remembering how she'd learned the term from hearing one of her boyfriends refer to his testicles that way. "Wouldn't he be surprised to see me now!"

Miranda moved her feet apart until she found a position allowed room for her balls to hang between her thighs with a minimum of crowding. She found that she could put her legs closer together, but she had to make sure to arrange things down there so her ball-sack stuck out behind her when she tried it. Standing with her feet wide-apart in the five-inch heels she'd picked-out to match the dress she'd worn felt very wrong, but she understood that she was going to have to make some changes in very mundane and fundamental things, like how she stood, walked, and sat.

As everyone waited to see just how big Miranda's new equipment would get, her father took the opportunity to ask another question.

"Sorry to keep bothering you, but ... why? Why are you doing this to her?"

"She's our new Stallion Girl."

"Yes, but why? What's the point? Do many of your readers think that's sexy? I had no idea men's magazines were this extreme now."

"Men's magazine? You are a newb, aren't you? No dude, Stallion is the in-house publication for the International Horse Breeders Association. The magazine has a limited distribution. It only goes out to the members. The magazine's mascot is a girl with a horse's cock and balls. See, it started out as a regular cartoon in the magazine, and was a very popular feature. Once genetic manipulation technology developed far enough, we started doing it for real. That's when the whole Stallion Girl thing really took off. And of course there's another reason. And this is why we have our own genetics lab in the first place. We engineered her balls to make sperm that carry the finest thoroughbred horse genes. Think Seabiscuit, Seattle Slew, and Man O' War rolled into one."

"So?"

"So she'll be in very heavy demand as a stud. Horse-breeders will pay mucho bucks to have her service their mares. Even more if she does that in front of an audience. You're not wrong about there being a lot of guys who get off seeing a girl with a really big dick between her legs. I know we'll sell a lot of posters and videos of her just showing-off what she's got. Larry can hook you up with some of that stuff if you want."

"I see. But why would any girl let someone do that to them?"

"Duh! The money? Have you got any idea what stud-fees run? Even with the discount our members get for funding the R&D, it's a big pile of green. And remember, she gets paid a percentage every time she performs, whether it's breeding a mare or just jerking-off at some dude's bachelor party. That doesn't count any tips she gets. She'll probably take home close to a quarter-million a year for as long as she can keep that juice pumping."

"Oh my! A quarter of a million you say? Well isn't that something? So ... how hard is it to change her back?"

"Back? We had a hard enough time making something to turn her into that. No dude, that shit is permanent! She's gonna be like that the rest of her life."

Miranda kept posing while her dick kept growing and her balls kept swelling. Eventually, her testicles were the size of coconuts in a sack that hung down to just above her knees. Her cock topped out at 34 inches, which made her father both disgusted that he'd actually bet on how big his daughter's cock would get, and disappointed that he'd underestimated her.

Miranda didn't have to look down to know that her giant schlong reached all the way to the floor. She could feel the sensitive tip brush the rough wood of the platform every time she shifted her weight. She could feel the shaft behind it bump into her ankles whenever she turned. Anything touching it felt good.