#masters of disguise | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dcigar · 3 months ago

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The Costume That Transformed Me

It all started with a seemingly innocent trip to the Halloween store. Max had always loved Halloween, but this year he wanted to go all out. His friends had convinced him to attend a big leather and cigar-themed costume party downtown, so he figured he might as well dress the part. Though he wasn’t into cigars or leather himself, he knew he’d need a costume that stood out.

He wandered into a small, dimly lit store tucked between towering buildings in the city. The interior had an odd feel, almost like the costumes themselves were alive. A chill ran down his spine, but he brushed it off. As he wandered through the aisles, something caught his eye—a mannequin at the back of the store, clad in a full leather outfit, complete with a harness, biker boots, and most notably, a massive, sculpted beard. The mannequin’s head was completely shaved, its face adorned with the kind of beard that looked intimidatingly masculine. A cigar protruded from its lips, and its bulky frame seemed to radiate confidence.

Max chuckled to himself. “This would be hilarious,” he thought. It was the complete opposite of who he was—a clean-cut, average-built guy with no facial hair to speak of. He reached out and touched the costume.

“Ah, you’ve got good taste,” a deep voice behind him said.

Max jumped. The shopkeeper, an older man with a beard that rivaled the mannequin’s, stood grinning at him. “This costume isn’t just a look—it’s an experience,” the man said, handing Max a large box that seemed heavier than it should have been.

Max looked at him skeptically. “What’s in here?”

“Everything you need to become someone else for Halloween, and maybe for a bit longer if you like,” the shopkeeper said cryptically. He leaned in, the scent of tobacco heavy on his breath. “But beware, it’s not just a costume.”

Max laughed it off and paid for the costume, deciding to try it on at home. The box felt heavier the longer he carried it, but by the time he made it back to his apartment, excitement was overtaking any doubts. He opened the box and was surprised to find not just the leather harness, pants, and boots, but also an enormous, lifelike wig—a big, fake beard, and a cigar.

“Alright, let’s see how ridiculous this is,” he muttered.

Max put the leather outfit on first, the tightness of the pants hugging him in ways he wasn’t used to. The boots were heavy, giving him a commanding presence, and the harness accentuated his torso. He then picked up the wig, which had a perfectly sculpted bald cap attached. He slid it onto his head, feeling an odd tingle as it settled into place. Then he applied the fake beard, the weight of it pulling his chin down slightly.

He turned to the mirror and gasped.

The man looking back at him wasn’t him at all. Max barely recognized himself. His jawline appeared wider, and his face more chiseled under the weight of the fake beard. It was as though his body had somehow started to fill out the leather more naturally. It fit him perfectly, snug in a way that made him feel stronger, more powerful. His bare head gleamed under the dim light of his apartment, making him look menacing in the best possible way.

Max grabbed the cigar from the box, chuckling. “Might as well go all out,” he said, placing it between his lips. He didn’t light it, but just holding it made him feel different—more confident, even a little cocky.

As he stood in front of the mirror, something strange began to happen. The tingle from earlier had returned, spreading across his scalp and face. The fake bald cap seemed to fuse with his skin, disappearing until he couldn’t tell where his real scalp ended and the wig began. His hands shot to his head in shock—his scalp was smooth, completely hairless.

Before he could process what was happening, the beard—fake, or so he thought—started to grow. Max felt a pulling sensation at his chin, and in the mirror, the beard extended, thickening and curling naturally. It was no longer a prop but part of his face. His jaw grew more square, muscles bulging out of nowhere. His body, too, was changing—his chest puffed out, his arms thickened, and his legs became as solid as tree trunks.

He stumbled back, breathing heavily, the weight of his transformation settling in. His shirt tore at the seams as his muscles expanded, and the tight leather pants that had once felt awkward now hugged his powerful legs perfectly. The harness stretched over his newly broad chest as though it had been custom-made for him.

“What the hell is happening?” he whispered, grabbing his face. The beard was real. His head was shaved. His muscles… they were real too.

Panicking, Max reached for his phone to call someone—anyone—but stopped when he caught sight of himself in the mirror again. The man staring back was imposing, dominating even. He looked like he had spent years in the gym, smoking cigars, living a rugged, hardcore life. A wave of desire rushed over him—this body, this look, it was intoxicating.

As the transformation completed, his mind began to shift. He had never been into cigars, but now, the unlit one between his lips felt natural. He grabbed a lighter, his hands steady despite his shock, and lit it. The first puff filled his lungs with smoke, and with it, a sense of calm washed over him. The smoke curled around his face, the smell of leather and tobacco now blending seamlessly into his being.

Max flexed his arms, feeling the power surge through him. He traced his hands over his thick beard and bald scalp, smirking at the reflection. It was as if this was who he was always meant to be. The old Max felt like a distant memory, fading fast.

“Let’s see how long this lasts,” he muttered to himself as he grabbed his jacket and headed out the door, the heavy thud of his boots signaling his new presence to the world. Max wasn’t sure how permanent this transformation would be, but a part of him didn’t care.

Max stepped out of his apartment building, feeling the cool evening air wash over his freshly shaved scalp. He instinctively reached up to touch his smooth head, the sensation foreign yet thrilling. Every breeze across his exposed skin sent a shiver down his spine, reminding him of how different he was now—how *massive* he felt, both in body and presence.

As he walked toward the street, his boots clunking heavily with each step, Max couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement. His body responded to the new sensations—the tightness of the leather around his muscles, the weight of the harness pulling against his chest, the solid bulk of his legs filling out the pants. His beard brushed against the collar of his jacket, thick and unruly, while the cigar between his teeth gave off an earthy aroma, blending with the leather in a way that made him feel powerful. He took a deep drag, savoring the thick smoke that filled his lungs, then blew it out in a cloud that hovered in the air. The cigar felt *right*, almost as if his new identity wasn’t complete without it.

As he approached the meeting spot, his friends stood waiting outside a bar, already in costume. They were chatting and laughing until they saw him approaching. Max noticed how their eyes widened in disbelief, their faces unsure whether to laugh or gasp.

"Dude… is that *you*?" his friend Chris asked, stepping forward cautiously.

Max grinned, the motion tugging his thick mustache over his lips, and took another puff of his cigar. “Yeah, it’s me.” His voice rumbled deeper than before, surprising even him. The smoke curled lazily out of his mouth as he spoke.

“Holy *shit*!” Chris said, circling around Max like he was inspecting a completely different person. "What the hell happened to you, man? You look… massive!”

Max flexed his arm instinctively, feeling the leather pull tight over his muscles. He enjoyed how his friends gawked at him, their eyes flicking between his thick beard, the shaved head, and the cigar that never left his lips.

"Costume store," Max replied with a shrug, though inside he felt an intense wave of pleasure at their reactions. The transformation had not just been physical—there was something else at play. His friends’ admiration turned him on in a way he hadn’t anticipated, and it wasn’t just about the way he looked. It was the *power* he felt. The power to command attention, to *own* the space he was in.

"You really went all out," said Jason, who was dressed as a lumberjack, complete with a fake beard and a flannel shirt that barely fit his leaner frame. His costume suddenly seemed childish next to Max's overwhelming presence.

"Yeah, man," added Zack, who was wearing a goofy superhero costume—his cape fluttering awkwardly in the wind. "Didn’t think you were into cigars, though.”

Max grunted in response, taking another long drag, his thick mustache bristling as he exhaled. The taste was growing on him, and every pull on the cigar made him feel more grounded in this new version of himself. The more they stared at him, the more his body reacted. His cock stirred, pressing against the tight leather pants, and he had to suppress a groan as a wave of arousal hit him harder than expected.

He wasn’t just turned on by his new look—he was turned on by how different he felt. The way his bald scalp tingled in the cool air, the way his beard commanded attention, the way his muscles strained against the leather. Every sensation made his cock twitch, the leather pants doing nothing to hide the growing bulge that pressed tightly against the material.

His friends were oblivious to the internal battle raging inside him as they continued their conversation.

“Man, you put us to shame with that costume,” Chris said, laughing nervously. He adjusted his own costume—a basic vampire outfit with cheap fangs and a plastic cape. “We should’ve known you’d go all in.”

Max smirked. “Can’t do Halloween halfway,” he said, his voice gravelly, the cigar smoke rolling off his lips as he spoke. The weight of the mustache covering his upper lip made every word feel heavy, almost more commanding. He loved it.

But as they stood there talking, Max couldn’t stop thinking about how much his body craved more. He was *alive* with desire—desire for himself, for the power his new look gave him, and the way his friends looked at him. He felt his erection pressing painfully against the zipper of his pants, the sensation only adding to the pleasure building inside him.

He wanted to feel more of it. He *needed* to feel more of it.

“Alright, let’s head inside,” Zack suggested, waving his hand toward the bar. "Before we freeze our asses off out here."

Max nodded, following them with a swagger that came naturally now. The boots thudded against the pavement with authority, and the weight of the cigar between his lips felt as natural as breathing. With every step, he felt himself becoming more turned on by the way his friends couldn’t take their eyes off him. His massive presence dwarfed them, and he *loved* it.

As the door to the bar opened, Max couldn’t help but grin around his cigar, knowing that tonight would be unlike any Halloween he’d ever experienced before.

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