Eddy Walton-22 year old-A personal assistant (Pr. Nyx)

A/N: This branch will focus more on the protagonist growth and story development, so don’t expect too many sex scenes showing up every chapter.

The main aim of this story is to explore the consequences of changing nature, so he won’t be god like, but he won’t know that.

Enjoy.

It was 4:00 pm and I already felt the need to punch my alcove’s wall. Well, not really. I could wait until after diner for that. The wall wasn’t going anywhere.

For the better part of the summer I had been living in the suit of a billionaire’s yacht, traveling through Western Europe, enjoying the luxurious life any 22 year old would want. Constant parties on the main deck, bikini clad women bathing on the beach, the sound of sex filling the walls. Pretty sweet deal, right?

Uh... No.

My name was Edward Charles Walton, but most people called me Eddy. Not my father though, he insisted on calling me Edward all the time, because his father had been called Edward, and his father before him, and his father before him and so on and so forth.

Honestly, I think he wished he was called Edward.

My father was Winston Walton, founder, major owner and CEO of Walton International, and the billionaire who owned the yacht. He had ordered me to accompany him on his trip through Europe, and since father’s word was law, I had no choices but to pack my bags and jump on board.

I bet you five bucks you still haven’t guess what’s so horrible with my life. Ha, didn’t think so.

You see, I was both the first born son and the youngest child of my family. My father had many daughters throughout the years, but he wanted an heir, he wanted a son. He was... err, let’s do him a kindness and call him over traditionalist.

As the heir of the great empire he had risen from the ground, there had been expectations placed on me. Expectations I was never, and I repeat, never, able to fulfill. In school my grades had been good, but not future-world-leader good. I was friendly and kind with most people, but the public wasn’t forming lines to shake my hand. I was a natural down-to-earth handsome, but women weren’t fainting at my feet.

At one point father just gave up. He hired me as his ‘prodigy’ (i.e. assistant) and said I didn’t have to waist my time (i.e. his money) by studying even more if I already had a job.

So here I was. One last week of slavery aboard the SS Why-Do-I-Even-Bother and I could return to my regular loneliness back home.