TG TF Caption ~ Letter To My Future Self

“And as such, dear students, I would like you all to write a message to your future self!” the teacher proclaimed on a playful note as she clapped in her palms with a contrived smile. “Trust me, this is a very important creative task!~”

This was one of those memories from primary school that completely washed themselves away from the head of Brett. It belongs to the collection of “forgotten recollections” that are, in the best case, remembered only for more interesting things that subsequently happened on the same day. It would be very fitting to label his head as a foggy field where even lights in the distance don’t help in any way possible.

“Hmmmm…” the yet young Brett fell into deep thoughts as he was inspecting the piece of paper and tapping his chin with the edge of his bitten pen.

The teacher always pointed out the lack of creativity in the way Brett described almost anything - starting from weather and ending with simply calling himself “curious about things*. Most of the time, the woman was giving him some ideas or at least references to bounce off the walls of his growing brains, yet this time, she let her pupils write everything down from clean and shiny scratch, yet Brett, being himself, simply was sitting there, staring at the title of the work. 

“Future me, hm..” he mumbled and resentfully scanned his classmates - each of them were diving into the task, making sure that every word hits like a stack of books into someone’s guts. 

“Are you done yet??” his best friend, Micah, slid closer along the shared bench, curiously checking out the empty sheet of Brett’s.

“Not quite,” Brett sighed, his expression becoming almost solemn from his inability to craft a single straightforward thought in his head. “I… Can’t.”

Sometimes young Micah was getting pretty frustrated with how dense and slow his friend might be at times - this was one of those unfortunate instances, as he lowered his thick eyebrows in disapproval. Micah was not the smart one in their duo either, but he made up for it with his groundbreaking enthusiasm and confidence. Quite the other way around, Brett was the shy one, partially because he grew up without any parent figure and thus didn’t have much social experience either. It did not stop him from making some friends, yet at the end of the day, his heart was still racing with this feeling of not being particularly complete. Micah grew in the similar environment, but seemed to fit in much more comfortably. 

“I wrote my letter to a businessman with a lo-o-o-o-ot of money! Everyone would love to know someone so generous in their life!”

Brett did not say anything, his eyes instinctively rolled themselves up and he could swear the good old taste of cringe lingered on his tongue like a cheap sour candy.

‘Stupid, you can’t even properly multiply with columns!’ the boy commented to himself, yet decided to not upset his best friend.

 On the other hand, the teacher, upon hearing loud and enthusiastic words from Micah, extended the corners of her red lips as she quickly nodded in agreement. 

“Oh! Absolutely, dear Micah! That's a really good advice actually!” she waved with her finger in the air. “Imagine if you were writing to an adult you would love to be familiar with!”

Brett’s ears perked up once he finally got at least a tiny spark of idea to what he could write about. His overworking brains started actively pouring his thoughts on the paper as he described the perfect person that could be his friend. 

That said, by the next hour, the so-called “suffering” completely vanished from his head, for his school life was much more interesting and important to him rather than creative tasks he hated so much. Why does he need to focus on such things either way? Life is still full of wonder, after all. 

Time went on with break after break and class after class as adulthood approached Brett in the most nonchalant way possible, throwing him into the sea of becoming completely independent. If small Brett saw himself from the future, his jaw would probably drop to the floor because he would probably never guess that he would at some point become a furniture designer.

Yes, as it turned out, Brett defeated his lack of creative vision by becoming someone who turns fantasy into reality by injecting their ideas in the form of soft fabric and smooth wood. The fruits of his success were everywhere in his new house - a puffy couch with big pillows, a folding table from fine birch wood, a puffy carpet that you want to dig your fingers into - it’s just as comfortable as it gets. 

Despite becoming more than successful in the art he genuinely loves, Brett became so focused on it that he completely distanced himself from the countless friends he used to have all these years ago. Was it worth it? Who knows, it still was very apparent to him that he was a very different person nowadays. 

Micah tried to contact him once, yet Brett simply ran away from the conversation, either from shame or disdain that formed throughout the years. What was once “boring and confusing” to him, now became the only thing he cared about, while the joy of life got painted grey and moody. 

“No, I don’t have any time for that. Settled,” Brett always said in his defiant tone, his casual way of talking was no different from his boring professional antics. 

One morning in particular, Brett was woken up by a sweet sound of his doorbell ringing in almost sparkling tone - this one was also designed by him and, ironically, was supposed to be as quiet as possible. He usually asked to have his letters and mails be delivered outdoors, but this time in particular, the wrapped letter slid right through the tiniest slit beneath his shiny door. 

‘Must have been someone new,’ Brett thought to himself as a way to calm a small spark of frustration that was mostly born out of his disrupted sleep. 

The first assumption would be taxes, yet lately Brett has been getting so many letters from his old friends that it became the second most prominent scenario for him. But as he looked on the other side of the letter, his body froze in confusion.

‘Sender: Brett..?’ 

Must have been some mistake or a funny coincidence, but his name being on the envelope was not even the most bizarre part about the letter. No last name was mentioned and the handwriting of the name looked rather… messy, and it’s also the nicest way you could put it. You could say that the way it was written would be a right-handed person’s first attempt to write something with their left hand. Could have been some sort of prank, but the official red seal on the envelope was clearly telling the exact opposite story. 

Well, he has to give it a shot either way, even if someone thought that they just invented the absolute pinnacle of humor by waking him up to read some gibberish. Yes, just as he expected, the text of the letter itself was so rough that it could easily put the average doctor's handwriting to shame. Yet the contents were flowing suspiciously well in Brett’s mind as he started reading them.

‘Hello, kind lady! I am Brett from the past.’

The first line itself sent a trembling, cold shiver down Brett’s body, yet he couldn’t even understand why. For some reason, the words felt very familiar, yet just as foreign to him. Even when he saw the mention of a particular “kind lady”, Brett was not convinced that someone delivered him a letter that wasn’t meant for him. 

‘I know things might be a bit hard and adult life kinda suckkkkkssssss, but you are doing great! Thanks for being so caring and gentle to me..’

The words created an echo in Brett’s head as he suddenly felt very low, very weak and fragile, like a porcelain doll that could be crushed into pieces with the smallest hit. Dolls are short, just like Brett whose height decreased by a few centimeters without him noticing it, even though the feeling of vulnerability wrapped his soul at once. He was slowly remembering what this letter actually was, but at this point, it was too late. 

‘I like when you look at me with your gentle..’

Blue eyes turned golden on his petite and soft face with a soft blush that was almost too inviting to keep any wrinkles away from the perfect, morphing structure of Brett’s slightly plump lips, the snow white hair with braid on top to give it a nice motherly shortness. 

“Mmmahh..!” 

‘Your voice is so soothing too! Like every word of your is a-’

“Lullabyyy..” Brett moaned out in a whisper when hoarseness in his throat was washed away by a gentle breeze, turning it into a perfect silk of femininity. “What is..going on..”

At this point, he was too into it, so his eyes just wandered over the text while his body was responding to it as such.

‘I like when you hug me, it makes me feel..’

“Wa~a~a~rmmmm~” 

Brett couldn’t suppress the moan when the strange wave of heat ran over his body and stopped just in the area of his hips and chest. His previously flat buttocks fattened enough to make their skin almost squishable. The sensation went like a chain reaction to his hips that wiggled from the sudden cocktail of fat and became wider than his head. Luckily to him, nothing felt as good as his nipples suddenly turning hard when vibrations all over his torso started pushing the two pointy canon-like breasts out, charging them with quickly developing mammary glands with veins thick enough to protrude through his ballooning skin. 

“AH! What the..!” it was a short moment of Brett finally snapping out of his trance. “This is…oh, mmh–..”

The moment he had thought that the growth stopped at his chest simply being slightly more pronounced, sensations became even more intense and the forceful transformation made sure that Brett’s breasts were at least big enough to keep up with two rugby balls. As if they were not juicy enough already, small bumps started emerging around their nipples with audible ‘pop’ sound, signifying fertility and sudden hormonal growth of Brett’s body.

“A-Ahhhnnnn…~” he could simply moan, looking at the way his weakened arms without any prominent muscles squeezed his two new forms.

Speaking of his arms..

‘I like that you don’t wear too much make-up! I wonder, what color of nail polish you picked today…’

Almost immediately, Brett’s fingernails became longer and sharper, a sudden tingle from thousands of nerves from fingertips making them shut their eyes for a second. Upon opening the eyes, they can only notice new thin fingers of theirs.

“Pink, my dear.. they're pink today..” Brett took on a precious expression as they looked over their hand.

‘That apron suits you well too!’

“I knowwww!~” Brett bit their lip when their naked torso was finally adjusted by a very skimpy frilled white dress with an apron that made little to no effort to cover their bubble-shaped ass, while they kept on looking at the letter, taking great pleasure in reading every single word of it.

‘Thank you for being there for me, miss Brittany!’

Ah, right… ”miss”. With a loud squish and stinging splash, the remains of Brittany’s male genitalia slowly crawled inside her crotch that just made a grand opening of its fleshy gates. To signify the end of her transformation, her stomach loudly growled, making a small bubble inside her pussy burst with viscous juices. Even though the changes in Brittany were finished, she still had to finish the letter…

‘I’d like to visit your small cozy house again.. I don't like big or expensive places.’

At this very moment, the world around her started shifting, turning her luxurious living room into a rather simple chamber with a couch that was not even nearly as impressive as the one Brett designed himself. How could she complain about small things like these, though?

Was it finally over? Brittany blinked a couple of times to realize that everything was, in fact, real and her eyes weren't playing coy games with her. Small smile spread on her lips as she bit the envelope with an almost ecstatic expression.

“Little dummy.. if only you knew what you wrote,” her giggle was rather bittersweet. “..I do like my new look though..~” the whisper ended with a playful curve as the remains of her previous identity faded in nothingness.

As she took one last look at the letter, her heart started racing in both nervousness and anticipation.

‘And don’t forget about Micah! He needs to be taken care of too! No way even huuuuge amount of money will save him!’

“..Yes, my dear, he does need that~..” the woman bit her lip, hearing the knocks on the door already - the same exact tempo as her excited heartbeat. “I’m coming, sweetness!”