College Clones Ch. 01: Discovery

Story Info
New girl in college finds a futa clone... and loves herself.
4.9k words
4.33
35.8k
53

Part 1 of the 10 part series

Updated 06/07/2023
Created 10/21/2015
Share this Story

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here
reddly23
reddly23
63 Followers

The dorm hallway was quiet, lit with a warm afternoon light from the end of the hall. The walls and ceiling were off-white with a green carpet that ran with blue strips up the sides. Some dust particles were visible lazily drifting about in the sunlight spilling from the recreation room into the corridor. Sounds of muffled laughter and talking could be heard through the window of the rec room as people were going about campus. There was a slight creak and a flash of reflection as the end door opened, and a short girl shuffled through. There was a soft little bump as it closed behind her. She made her way up the hall head down, arms crossed in front of her over a binder. Her hair, a straight soft dirty blonde was obscuring her face, and thick black rimmed glasses were just visible underneath. She wore a black T-shirt, and soft brown cotton pants. She walked in small steps, seeming to even dislike making the whisper of pants and little taps from flip-flops in the hall. There was a thump in one of the rooms and she twitched her head just the slightest and tried to compromise her desire to go unnoticed for speed. It was eyes, they upset her. Especially men's. Every time she noticed another guy giving her a once over it reminded her of that night in high school.

She reached her door, which had no smiley face with a name adorned it like the others. She had thrown that out just as fast as you please. She removed one hand from the binder and reached into her pocket for the little key to her haven. She fumbled it, and it fell from her grasp. A momentary panic struck her chest as she watched the golden metal twist in the air until it dropped on to the carpet and bounced onto her right foot. It was a little cold on her sensitive skin and not wholly unpleasant. She reached down and retrieved it and stared at where it was. Her feet had never concerned her before, she had always been most comfortable in flip-flops as opposed to closed shoes. Recently she had learned that to some people they are more than just a way to get around but something she never expected; attractive. It had started earlier in the week and the memories flashed in her mind's eye in practically an instant.

- - - She remembered the first day (Monday) - - -

"My name's Tricia..." She said reluctantly as it was eventually her turn in the circle to make her introduction. It was her floor's initial icebreaker the day after moving in. Tricia was lucky enough to get a double room for the price of a single. There were two beds and two desks, one on each side of the room. Each desk had a tube light above it and a little square mirror behind a slide panel. The wall opposite the door was almost completely taken up by a good sized window, the blinds retracted up. She was unpacking her few cardboard boxes when a rap came on the door. She was greeted by the R.A. He was a fit guy, in a white polo and khaki shorts with a generic baseball cap. He insisted that she come to the meeting to meet her new neighbours. So, Tricia found herself in this circle of twenty people, about half male she found, which just increased her anxiety. She slinked in, arms across her satchel and took a seat between two females, who were kind enough to her, but seemed to have just been bickering. The one on her left was a thin girl with chin length dyed red hair, tamed slightly out at the bottom. She wore black shirt/jeans, spike bracelets and bangles. The girl on the right was quite short, wider set with long unkempt brown hair in a grey hoodie. Everyone was supposed to give their name and something about themselves to share.

"...I draw." She muttered. She did rather well too, specializing in anatomy. She could memorize how flesh and muscle flowed and stretched in movement and pose. The difficult positions of a human torso while bent, or taught while reaching upward were once a challenge, but one she surpassed. She even designed clothes from time to time after drawing the bare model underneath. Her aunt was working in clothing design and suggested she gave it a try, to which she found an artist of frightening potential. So what was once Tricia's favourite pastime became a segway into her career choice. Not necessarily design, but something in art. Her drawings never featured faces anymore though, and the males she drew much less were usually nothing more than a back, or arms, or chest. Nothing below the waist.

The R.A., being used to detecting people's body language could tell in an instant that she was an intensely introverted, closed person. He knew a few tricks to try to draw them out from a few years in training for counsellor.

"That's awesome!" He exclaimed with a smile, trying to make eye contact, "Can we see some of your artwork?" He kept lowering his head to try and catch her eyes. Tricia hesitated, then set her satchel on the ground, unclipped the hooks with slightly shaking hands. Everyone was watching her take out some loose sheets with sketches of bodies and hand them to her right. The shorter girl took them and thumbed through them unceremoniously then held them out to her right without looking. The guy next to her took them and took a bit more time, mostly looking over the female works and snickering with his buddy at the breasts. As the drawing went around gasps and impressed mutterings of her peers took over the previous silence, and Tricia found it hard not to smile a little. It was rare she had a source of pride and whenever she did it was a rare moment of an irresistible grin.

The R.A. was waiting for this and knew he made the right move. He watched her face blush red and hoped she would make some comments on her works, when there was a sound of a camera shutter. Tricia looked over to see one of the guys with his phone out, having just took a picture of one of her drawings. He regarded the sketch a bit longer, then passed it on. Tricia looked at him, wondering why he snapped a photo of only that page. Perhaps it was the best of the lot, and she'd have a look later to see what she did right. She kept peering at him through her hair, quite curious now. He was tall, in a toque and striped long sleeve shirt. He seemed to be almost as uncomfortable as she was, avoiding the others' eyes. When he passed it to the girl to his right - a girl with a black ponytail and ample bosom mostly exposed in a very revealing tank top - Tricia noticed he only stole a glance at her chest once while she was distracted with the pages. He was slyly watching her foot which was covered in a white ankle sock and silver anklet. She had it propped up on her left knee and was waving and flexing it absentmindedly. There was just enough grey dirt marks on the bottom to see the shape. It was quite close to his arm and Tricia would have bet her best set of pencils that he wanted to touch it.

When it came time for him to make his introduction he rose and said his name was Jack. Apparently he dabbled in photography, but mostly working in engineering. He had taken an IT course before and passed with flying colours, but came back to take an art course hoping it would give a fresh perspective on his photography. There wasn't much response as he lowered back into his seat, and the girl he was watching before rose to introduce herself.

The papers were all back to Tricia now. She put them away and waited for another few minutes until the group was disbanded and encouraged to meet back here for a little party that night. She of course knew she wouldn't attend, but instead stayed in her room and decided to find the photographed piece. After locking her door she lay the satchel on her bed and withdrew the papers. Tricia turned on the desk overhead light and sat in the chair. She flipped through the pages, seeing each one with a new eye. Being used to finishing it with the artist's perspective and archiving it she hadn't really had the mental perspective other than her Aunt to view her works. She had a new appreciation for each muscle and pose done skillfully. This series of sketches were based from yoga asanas she had found on the net. A few pages of woman's yoga practices; upward facing dog, camel, tree, and then the boat. She knew that this had to be the one. The perspective had the woman's soles foremost in the image, well shaded and detailed. Yet again Tricia was confused as to what his attraction was to this kind of thing, but could now appreciate how well they were formed. She put the papers back together and tapped them into flush order. Turning off the light and crawling into bed she wondered what the first project they'd be assigned in class would be ... then drifted off into sleep.

- - - She remembered the next few days - - -

Tuesday through to Thursday was less interesting than Tricia expected art-wise, but despite the disappointment she found a new hobby. Tricia entered her new classroom the first day to find it full of scarred and animation desks. They were in rows of four on each side of the room, two back to back each direction. She took the far right corner, finding the punk girl named Melanie from the meeting in her aisle across the room looking grumpy. Tricia was glad to find that since they were about shoulder height the desks were very concealing. The office chairs looked very comfortable, but it made a squeak when she sat upon it. She got up and tried the other seat and found it silent, so she swapped them.

Everyone slowly trickled in over the next few minutes and took their seats among strangers and mumbled greetings to each other. Artists can be very socially stunted to begin with, and a group of them meeting can be very awkward. Her class seemed to be about four males and six females. Across the room in her aisle the red haired girl was sitting back flicking at her mp3 player. Tricia pulled out pencils, white erasers, charcoal, a slew of pastels, the works. She wanted to be prepared to fully seize this opportunity to perfect her craft. She ran her hand across the thick plastic over the back light, and looked at some doodles made on the wood around it. Someone had made a Kilroy near the top, either meaning this thing is old or someone was caught in sepia.

A big figure silently came around the empty station to her right and dropped into the seat with a creak. Tricia pulled back a little reactively, then noticed it was Jack. He gave a quick look her way, then back to his desk. A part of her was impressed how his eyes didn't rake over her body like most guys, and she relaxed a little. Everyone was pulling their chairs to the middle vertical aisle to better see the instructor walk in and begin to speak. It was a stern looking woman in her early forties, auburn hair in a tight bun and white turtleneck. She had a very efficient way of moving, with quick conservative gestures.

"Welcome to Animation, I see you've found your seats. My name is Janice. Here you'll get familiar with the tools of the trade and improve the skills that got you this far. As you can obviously see you're each assigned a work station for pencil animation with back light and peg bar for onion skinning. There is also a computer room for 3D animation and a sound room for..." She went on describing the different faculties and utilities in their section of campus. She concluded by saying the tour began the next day, but for now to begin making a ball bounce. The immediate rustle of plastic ripping of fresh packs of animation paper filled the room, and everyone started getting more familiar with each other. While they set up and chatted, Janice went to her chair at the front and pulled out a book and reading glasses. She peered over the top of the glasses around the room ad opened to her bookmark halfway through the novel.

Tricia did the same as the rest and pulled off the plastic to a pleasing fresh stack of clean paper. She withdrew about twenty pages and slid a few over the three pegs into place. She got to work drawing frame by frame of a circle coming in from the left and falling to a squishy bounce. Squash and stretch. She was midway through the ball's rise up from the ground when there was another shutter sound. From her right Jack had almost finished already, and had his phone out again and seemed to be browsing a gallery. She glanced at the phone to see her foot by the office chair wheels. A rush of heat bloomed in her face from embarrassment more than anger. Tricia wanted to tell him off or break his phone, but something about the weirdness of it all stopped her. It wasn't her exposed breasts, or a shot of her in the shower, it was almost like her hands. Seeing him obsess over something so odd was fascinating, and the heat was sustained from a new excitement, and a slight feeling of power. She went back to drawing, but shook her left foot so the flip-flop fell off with a clop to the tiles. Tricia rested her foot over her right one so the sole was exposed to Jack's view. At the sound of the sandal he tensed for the briefest moment, but remained passive. His head was just turned enough to subtly watch her display. A tingling sensation began in her face and fingers from this peculiar perverseness. It truly felt like she could make this man under her, weaker than her with every movement. A little grin crossed her face beneath that hair as she started to flex and stretch her toes under his sure gaze. Sure enough, the shutter went off a few more times. It was muffled as he tried to cover the speaker of his phone to no avail.

That went on for the next hour. Tricia finishing her project slower, but steady. She had Jack enraptured the whole time, who never quite completed his animation so close to done. She kept her face indifferent as she put her flip back on and walked up to the line for the top-down camera. As Janice explained how each shot loaded onto the adjacent computer, Tricia let her new emotions subside. She didn't know if she'd do it again, but was in surprise to have found this power at her disposal. It didn't remind her of that drunk night with Derek somehow, a final outlet for her dormant sexuality. These ideas passed and the day played out calmly. Class ended and she went back to her room and practiced more body sketches. Tricia paused after a complicated drawing of a face - perspective under the chin looking up - and had an idea. She slid her chair back, rested her sketchpad on her lap and put her feet up on the desk in front of the small square mirror there. With the only light being the one over her desk she had a perfect view of tops, and soles in the reflection. She tried to see them with Jack's eye, and took her time drawing them...

- - -

Wednesday was uneventful other than the tour through their section of campus. They were shown the sound booth, computer room, viewing room, library, and even a room for music. They were introduced to the other two instructors, Todd and Mr. Schwartz. Todd was a frail man with a lisp, who entirely lacked presence. He mostly handled teaching sound tools and projects. Mr. Schwartz, who insisted on being addressed formally was in charge of drawing models. He had very short black hair, tucked in shirt and tie, and pants pulled up higher than the should be. The twelve of them were led back into the viewing room to review their bounce project. They were all quite similar, with different line values and arcs.

Everyone was sitting in the dark room, watching the bright screen in silence, hoping that theirs would impress Janice. The instructor gave no indication of the sort, probably due to having seen years of initial animation like this. Tricia looked around for Jack, not knowing why. He was shyly flirting with Melanie over to the left across the aisle. He was checking out her visor beanie and all the pins of bands. A little part of her felt jealous, but she dismissed it and crawled back inside herself, ignoring everything.

They were eventually in the computer room, every wall lined with slightly out-of-date models. Janice showed them the different programs for 2-D and 3-D motion art. Tricia was sitting at the end nearest the door next to a guy named John, a long haired guy in a leather jacket. She thought of trying to tease him with her feet as well, but something about that felt wrong. She kept them under her desk and idly browsed her deviant art page. Over 30 new favourites over a few pictures she posted yesterday. Most comments were very flattering, some were even looking to commission her. She was replying to some of the posts and finding new reference photos for later for a few hours. Janice eventually arose and dismissed them for the day. They were welcome to stay and use the building until midnight on weekdays, so Tricia was in no rush. Talking and gathering things, the students made their way past her to the door. Then there was a sudden painful tug on her hair.

"Ow!" Tricia cried, "What the hell?" She tried to turn and look but her hair was bunched up on her head.

"Oh man, fuck I am so sorry!" came Jack's voice, ""It's my damn sweater zipper." She felt him work it loose and she whipped around when free, arms up in question. She stared up at him with watery eyes and he stood there looking like he was going to say more, but decided against it and silently opened the door and left. Tricia was left sitting there alone in sunset lighting, hands still raised and hair askew as the door thumped home.

- - -

Thursday she planned on saying something to him, now that as awkward as it was, the interaction membrane was breached. Tricia had no idea what she was going to say, but she wanted to still seem a little condescending. Jack had become somewhat of an outlet for darker emotions. She felt in control around him, taking that power trip days before was a new rush for her. Having it lost just as quick was like taking away a baby's new toy.

The class was given their next project - a walk cycle - and he still hadn't shown up. In fact he didn't arrive all day. Tricia realized she didn't want to think about him too much, as that is yielding a little too much power to someone who's still practically a stranger. Tricia was determined to focus on her work instead. Unfortunately she was finding that this course wasn't really teaching skills, only the programs to use to make new types of art. She could have easily just ran a search online for the same results for much, much cheaper than tuition.

The rest of the students seem to be enjoying it though. Some of them found their clique already, and laughed over new viral videos and drew unflattering caricatures of instructors. The four guys all stuck together, and the six girls were off in threes. One of the girls, Carrie, tried to get Tricia to join them but she politely stated she had to be somewhere. She gathered her things and made for the cafeteria while it was still relatively empty before the lunch rush. The day went on, that evening the sounds of people playing ultimate Frisbee out in the courtyard permeated her window. She listened with a faint longing, and cursed her social awkwardness. Tricia looked in the mirror at her blue eyes so pronounced behind the glasses, and wondered if she'd ever have the privilege of love. She thought she was pretty enough to earn the right person. She brushed her hair aside and tried a smile, it was weak but cute. She seen the pencil held above her ear that she forgot entirely about from class. She took it out and decided to try sketches of herself. Unknowingly, she tried to see herself from Jack's perspective again...

- - - Back in the Corridor - - -

Tricia held the key in her hand as she came back into the now. The last thing she reflected on was that this Friday morning, yet again Jack was not present. She had worked in solitude, spare for Melanie across the room, who slept for almost the entire class. Tricia's desire to get something from Jack - not sure of what - was dissipating. A door closed down the hall and she shot to put the key in. The metallic clatter sounded around the key, and she twisted the knob. She pushed the door in, and entered, closing the door quietly behind her. Tricia put her ear to the door and listened to soft steps pass. A moment passed, then she heard someone say hello to a Shelby, then some muffled talk between girls.

reddly23
reddly23
63 Followers
12