Lucky wondered as he handled the device what sort of experience he would have with the device. It seemed like the sexual need when Martin used it was so overflowing and powerful that it overrode everything else up to and including shame and self control to such an extent he had to kneel down and beat off until he had stained the floor of that odd chamber. Honestly with how much that looked like it felt good, Lucky was actually wondering if it was wise to give it over so easily. It looked intense...
Standing in the back compartment of the van stark naked, in a space usually used for holding their haul, Lucky felt around for the device's button, or mechanism, or whatever Martin had inadvertently pressed that had so readily turned him into that Roman stud. If Lucky could have similar luck, the combination of his delicate, metrosexual sensibilities and the powerfully muscled, erotic look of one of those warriors...it would be a heady combination that would invite Lucky to many a woman's bed.
He felt a spike of excitement run down his spine as he heard the click.
Then the device slid open, and once again the holographic red script emitted from the mysterious mechanical pieces of the sphere. Lucky's eyes went wide as an array of numbers started to slowly move by along that script. Some followed by an A, others by a B. If he had to guess, it was the old, christianized names for historical periods - Before Christ and Anno Domini. A brief contemplation of which to choose ran its way through Lucky's thoughts. What he might become, how it might feel.
He was already half hard and he hadn't even engaged any transformation yet!
1150A seemed like a good, reasonable choice - so he went ahead and pressed it, face illuminated by the red lights. He didn't know what might result, who he might become or what origin they might have. But he was eager and wanted to just experience the change in his body like what he'd seen in Martin. Chances were, he would never have---
His thoughts and contemplations were interrupted by a spike of sudden pleasure and pain through his body, this time accompanied by eagerness, "Here---here we fucking go!" He didn't need any encouragement the way Martin had, no need for any build up or heat or gradual push toward indulgence. The moment that Lucky felt that telltale sign of the change, the tingling rushing through his body, he was on his knees - his hand wrapped around his hot, hard cock, his hand rubbing his chest and pinching his nipple.
A strangled gasp ripped from his lips, and he uttered something in Icelandic in exultation of his pleasure.
As Lucky masturbated in the back of the van, he registered his arms pulsing, the forearms first as well as his hands growing thicker, stronger, and more calloused, beaten down, even his nails looking less refined. A grunt forced its way out his lips as he had to adjust his stance as he continued masturbating - his biceps and shoulders fighting for which would be the fastest to grow. A fast few grunts from Lucky as he eagerly pumped his hands over a cock that seemed to be growing bigger.
He could immediately understand every bit why Martin had basically collapsed over himself to get right to jerking off. Even in front of the three of them! Something told him he had to try this again sometime. Yet even as Lucky ruminated in the course of his carnal delights he didn't necessarily see his long blond hair shortening, growing thicker, coarser and more curly - and then beginning to dye - the blond strands in his eyes shifting from blond to brown in between swaying before his vision.
Lucky grunted with pleasure as he felt his chest beginning to push out more, size building on to him with fervor. He let out a grunt as he felt his stomach shift and then pulse, abdominals sculpting into existence moment by moment - the pain of what felt like months upon months of workouts all occurring at once being balanced by the sheer sensation of his cock and the way it just...felt to see and feel his body shifting.
It was like a new, alien sensation that nonetheless proved immensely alluring.
Lucky almost orgasmed then and there when he felt his ass shift and grow, followed by his legs growing larger, stronger, bulkier - the growth in his thighs and ass hitting him especially hard. Lucky groaned as he heard what he assumed was his clothes shifting. He wondered what he'd see---but he heard the car straining a bit.
What Lucky didn't see was his clothes changing into a set of silvery armor, a tunic top and a rough spun pair of pants and undergarments. The armor consisting of a chest piece, shoulder guards with an attached location for a cape and cowl, leg pieces, gauntlets, and even a sword lying on the floor. "This...this is bewitching...ohh fuck me..." Lucky didn't recognize his accent immediately, but heard a bit of French in it, and yet all his thoughts about what his new form might be were short circuited by the single greatest orgasm of his life.
Lucky felt his balls contract, his cock pulsed, and the newly formed French Knight of King Phillip's court almost roared with pleasure as he felt the emission hit him. He turned to avoid getting any of his cum on his armor or underlying garments. Breath coming to him ragged, Lucky sat there for a moment in the afterglow. He then realized he had a lot to show off to Scottie. "Man...can't wait for him to get back. Can't wait for Martin to get back. I look so fucking hot as---as a knight? I think I'm a knight of some kind. French accent? Old French?"
Well, he had a lot to do in as far as familiarizing himself with his new body. He could wait for the others to get back.
-----------------
While Lucky indulged his desire to get to know more about the device in such a way, Martin, Owen and Scottie all went out to the local mall to find some new clothes for Martin. Yet there seemed to be some differences both men readily noticed in their comrade. Martin seemed less at ease at first, seeming to evaluate every area and pausing as if to make sure things were safe. Even though they were just in a local mall. When Scottie asked what was up, Martin himself seemed to realize he had been doing so not quite consciously. He just shrugged his shoulders however and said, "...Can't be too careful."
And such was the case moving forward into the mall. Owen and Scottie would move forward while it seemed like Martin walked shortly behind them evaluating every person, twist and turn as if it might conceal some form of hidden threats.
Though Martin didn't have too much to complain about when it came to his appearance. Some of the local French girls discussed the newcomers, talking about the men in hushed tones in French - to try and make their impressions less obvious. Not knowing that Martin still retained his knowledge of French from his studies - and hearing the comments just made the newly minted Roman grin. "Do you see that one with the nice tan and the body? He's so hot."
"Why's he hanging out with the weirdo and the skinhead, though?"
"Skinhead isn't that bad looking outside his tasteless tattoo and accessory..."
"Oh. My. God, Lilah! You're into the skinhead!"
By the time they got to the clothes shop, the man minding the front desk took one look at the group - particularly Owen - that walked in, and immediately said, "Like I told the last of you guys we're not whatever Woke is this week. We're just trying to do our---"
"Not even remotely what we're in here about," Owen said between clenched teeth, "My friend..." he gestured to Martin, "Is in need of some new clothes. Got anything in his size?"
"...Oh. Oh. I---uh...we're...we are a sports clothes store..." The front desk guy took a look at Martin, who was just rolling his eyes at this point at the drama that ensued from Owen's self presentation. Seeing he didn't seem like a fellow traveler as some put it, the guy said, "Yeah, plenty for a muscle man like him. Compression and tank tops in the left end of the store." He then went back to texting his friends and waiting for the group to pick out clothes so that the awkward interaction could end.
For his part, Martin picked out clothes in a similar color configuration to his tunic and other accessories back in the van. A light brown tank top that exposed much of his powerfully built chest, and black shorts. He glanced over to see Owen picking out some clothes as well, and Scottie quietly looking back toward the front of the mall from the window side.
His eyes - he imagined - were on the van. Scottie wondered if Lucky had tried out the device. He honestly felt a little jealous if he had. He would've preferred to be the one to go next, to enjoy the feeling that Martin got to enjoy. Or maybe to even have both him and Lucky change at the same time. And maybe have some fun while they did so.
"These look pretty good, close to what you had before." Owen murmured as he handed over another tank and some jeans.
"You know, Owen..." Martin carried the clothes they found and figured it was time to make some conversation. Maybe try and gauge the loyalty of his sold---his employee. Weird. Almost thought of Owen as a soldier. "We all talk pretty easily about our pasts whenever we stop and have a campfire."
Owen was in the middle of fetching another new shirt for Martin to try on when he paused upon hearing the man start talking.
"You never spoke up during any of the campfires. Never said a word about where you came from. Why you---" Martin stopped when he saw Owen glaring at the floor.
That new shirt bearing a tight set of wrinkles. The skinhead's hand shook a bit, and he eventually looked back up. Quiet. Calmed back down. But decidedly dejected looking. As if that was a line of question he really, really preferred not to follow. Owen said in a low, quiet tone, "I'm just a perpetually pissed off Neo-Nazi. Isn't that good enough?"
"Maybe I'd like to know---" Martin started.
"Maybe I don't wanna share." Owen interjected. His angry tone and furious stare were enough to shut off the entire line of questioning. Inside, however? Crying is for degenerates. Crying is for degenerates. Crying is for loser beta males who can't---can't control their fucking emotions. You aren't...you aren't gonna cry in front of Martin. Talking about it always makes it worse.
"Then you don't need to share right now." Martin shrugged his shoulders. Figured the guy wouldn't want to share. Why'd he even---? Maybe he just felt he needed to know more before he went along to give in the item.
For his part, Martin paid for the whole of the purchase of clothes. They were after all his clothes, and no matter what happened to turn him into some kind of Roman Legionnaire, he remained wealthy and fabulously so. As they moved to leave, Scottie asked, "So Martin, uh, been meaning to ask. Who's our mysterious buyer of the week?"
Martin stated in a business-like tone as they walked out of the store, "A German businessman named Bruno Hartmann. He tipped me off about the location from stories he'd heard. Why he went with us I don't know. But we got things done." A slight smile showed over Martin's lips as he put his hands up behind his neck, "...I don't think it's all physical, by the way..."
Owen and Scottie looked curious as Martin related his change and its effect; "I'm pretty sure somewhere along the line I---I think mentally I'm more put together. More organized. Maybe its some sort of instilled military experience from this new body. But it's not really a problem - more a---a boon. We're all going to be able to work so much smarter and harder with me operating with this new understanding. And you know..."
Martin grinned, "It's not like I'm a totally different person. I'm the dude you know, just with some new relevant experience..." Yet even as Martin said that, saying dude sounded a little odd to him - without him even realizing a reason for that.
"This whole thing opens up some really interesting new opportunities." Martin led the way back to the van.
Scottie looked after him and glanced at the Roman man, then down at himself. Now...now he was really starting to feel kind of conflicted. Martin had started their adventures a very attractive man, but now he was outright amazingly hot. Scottie didn't know if the purported historical sexuality topic of the Romans held up now with Martin, but it was a fascinating thing to contemplate. Still, he didn't love the idea of his mind being changed at all - he'd prefer to keep all his smarts intact and change his body in line with what he'd seen or better.
Owen for his part felt validated in deciding not to use that damned orb. It was clearly some sort of hexen thing. A thing he would be better off not involving himself with in any capacity. He'd resolved now not to even touch it. He just hoped they'd deliver the damn thing to its new owner before anything more extreme happened. Maybe---Maybe getting rid of it, delivering it, maybe that would stop the mental changes going on with Martin.
Because as much as Owen liked the more militaristic changes that came to his friend, the exact scope of the changes scared the hell out of the young skinhead.
As the trio returned to the van, none had any idea of the changed man awaiting them inside.