The elevator dinged and Oliver stepped out, dragging his kit along with him into the narrow apartment hallway. He was a bit late, but getting across town had been awful like always, his breathing a bit ragged, but then again, he was almost sixty, and his breath was ragged just from hauling himself out of bed. He ran a hand back over his head–thin tuft, bald head, sweaty grey hair-and then dragged his things towards apartment 607, where Kyle and Noah were waiting for him.

Oliver was a few things to different people. On the street, he looked like an older, slobbish guy, sporting a long wiry goatee and clothes had seemed a few decades out of style and fit on his portly frame. Around Hollywood, his reputation was golden, as one of the old guard make up artists. Movie monsters, science fiction epics, disease, age, beauty, ugly, he’d applied something to any actor who’d ever mattered in the business. Computers, after all, could only do so much–or at least that’s what people told him to his face to be nice, and what he told himself to feel relevant. But to a few young men and couples around the city, his reputation, spread by word of mouth, was a bit more complex. Pervert, perhaps, was a simple way of putting it. Fucksmithing, something apparently created by a strange webcomic one of his clients had shown him on one of those tablet things, that was closer. He’d always just thought of himself as an enabler of fantasies which were…difficult to see realized in the real world. Depending on what was being requested, and who was requesting it, the fees he charged could be anywhere from exorbitant to gratis, as long as he got to watch them fuck.

Kyle and Noah had been regular clients of his for a few years now, usually calling him every few months with a request. The fantasies were rather boring, but both of the boys were rather cute both in and out of his makeup, and his interests overlapped somewhat with theirs. As such, he charged them only for materials so long as he could observe, and both of them seemed to enjoy having the old man masturbate while they fucked in his makeup. He knocked on their door, and Noah answered–he wouldn’t be needing any makeup today, and he was already in costume–A simply draped toga designed to be easily lifted to expose his ass, and a pair of sandals on his feet. In look, he was really no Theseus–the blond hair and pale complexion was too Nordic to be anything close to mediterranean, and hardly toned enough to wrestle and kill anything so powerful as a minotaur. Then again, in this fantasy, Theseus wasn’t supposed to win, was he? Still, Oliver’s powers were limited. He’d offered to dye Noah’s hair, or give him a bit of a tan, when they’d consulted over the phone but Noah had turned him down–he was more focused on Kyle. “Hey–” Oliver said, “Kyle ready to go?”

“Yeah, he’s in the bedroom, waiting–he didn’t want to see me, but I thought I’d go ahead and get changed. What do you think?” He gave a twirl

Oliver shrugged, but threw him a smile at least. “You want to watch me make him up?”

“Not this time–surprise me!” Noah said, “I’ll be in the labyrinth when you two are ready.”

“It’ll be a while, just to warn you.”

“The waiting just makes it more exciting,” he said, and went off into a door off the hall, the playroom, which the two of them set as the stage for whatever myth they felt like re-enacting that day. He found the mythos angle rather boring, but at least their selections were at least…challenging for him, on occasion.

Oliver had become rather good at keeping his eyes from rolling after years spent in close proximity to actors, and headed down the hall to the bedroom at the end of the hall. Inside was Kyle, the relative top in the relationship, or at least, Oliver had yet to witness him on bottom. He was in better physical shape, a bit more tan as well. The same age as Noah–the two had met in college–but he seemed…pleasantly older than the flightier one. “Hey, how are you doing?” Kyle asked, “Traffic bad? You’re a bit late.”

“It’s LA, traffic’s always bad. You ready? It’ll take a little while today.”

Kyle shrugged, “That’s cool–I’m excited.”

“Well, it’s not as good as some of the minotaurs I’ve done before, but I don’t think you want to be in the chair for hours either, while I apply hair all over your body.”

Kyle laughed, “No, I think what we discussed will be plenty.”

The couple had a small vanity in the room which was good enough, though a bit low, forcing Oliver to squat a bit as he worked, which always gave him a crick in his back. “Alright, so I molded the snout for you in latex. It might seem a bit short, but it works better than a longer one as far as kissing and everything goes, trust me. We’ll get it on, a smaller brow piece and some ears, give your face a bit of a paint job, put on some accessories and we’ll be good.”

Kyle nodded, and Oliver got to work. The latex covered his whole nose, went up under his eyes, around his whole jaw and down to his neck. It was a bit on the short side, and quite boxy, but Kyle actually quite looked in the mirror. He saw what Oliver was talking about as well–any longer, and doing anything with his mouth would have looked like his bull snout was a quacking duck. After Oliver got the edges glued down, he fitted a heavy brow over Kyle’s eyes, giving him a more menacing look, and a couple of ears that were a bit longer and flopped over. After all of that, he got to painting, sticking to brushes. It didn’t have to be his best work, after all–it only had to on for a sex scene, after all. He darkened his skin tone with greys and browns a bit and added a few white splatters for impact, and then came the accessories–fake rings–a door knocker in his snout and a few smaller ones in his ears, and then Kyle got his pants off. This, apparently, had been a bit of a sticking point for the two of them. Noah had initially planned on having Kyle wear a strap on, so he could get the full experience of getting hammered by a bull, but Kyle hadn’t been very interested in just play fucking his boy friend with fourteen inches of rubber while his own cock did, and felt, nothing. In the end, then, he had his usual cock, but his balls would be massive. Oliver was a bit disappointed, to be honest–while Kyle was cute, he wasn’t all that impressively endowed. He had more than a few odd props, including the heavy silicone balls he slid up around Kyle’s own set, securing them with spirit gum, and sat back, a bit frustrated that it only made Kyle look smaller in the shaft. Still, he was only here to do make up, not to direct–so he finished the job, securing a couple of follow horns to his temples. Kyle was very happy with the result, and they set off for the playroom, where Noah had been waiting for close to two hours.