20 Day Oc Challenge Novels & Stories

Maya stood there, blood on her shirt but not her own, judging by her steady stance. "What happened?" I asked. "Connor won," she said simply. "Marty's retreating. But..." "But what?" "He formally invoked the old law. The Challenge of Reclamation." Maya's expression was grim. "It hasn't been used in fifty years, but it's still valid." "What does that mean?" "It means," Connor said, appearing behind Maya, also bloodied but standing strong, "that he has thirty days to prove he's worthy of you. And if he succeeds..."

I wrinkled my nose. He frowned like that should be obvious. “Do you know nothing of your own body? Your cycle should be twenty-eight days long, beginning on the first day you bleed. When did that cycle last begin?” Double ew. “Why does it matter?” His smile got suggestive. “By knowing your cycle we know when we have to… concentrate our efforts.” My mind filled with that image of him again, heated and ecstatic, and my mouth went dry. “Yes, that,” he said with a sly smile.

Given that it’s a starless sky, the light’s also a problem. He cursed under his breath. Do they have to schedule this last challenge under extreme conditions? “We have a timer on the screen, dear challenger. You will be given three arrows only on each target. You only need to hit the apple, once. Alright? Is that clear with you?” – Marion asked Anthony looked up to where the Virgo Alpha was standing behind the podium. He raised his right arm and made a thumbs up. Marion nodded and whispered something to the man behind him. In a moment, the digital timer appeared at the side of the stage. Two minutes started to run.

“I’ve marked it very clearly,” Charlotte said as she pointed at the schedule. “Well… Given the fact that you’re a man, I feel I have an obligation to educate you about some of our female physiological knowledge. An adult woman would have a day of ovulation, so if, let’s say, a couple wants to have a kid, they will have the highest rate of success if they carry out sexual intercourse before or after this particular day. Nothing will happen if they carry out sexual intercourse on other days, no matter how hard they try. I have circled up these few days with a red pen, so except for these days, you should not come to my bedroom.”

Sort of. We found we could go about three days before we went cum crazy. Jennifer started calling them 'O-days,' the days where we were finally granted relief from edging ourselves off the walls. Our next O-day was set for Sunday. Again, I told myself we'd reached our limit in what we would do with each other. Again, I was an idiot. I was still asleep when Jennifer came into my room on a lazy Saturday morning. She pounced on my bed and prowled up to my head. Her face inches from mine. I blinked awake.

“I’m sure.” She nodded and moved to the back room. I heard jars clinking. Mortar grinding. When she came back she had a small glass vial. Dark liquid inside. It smelled like smoke and dirt and something bitter I couldn’t name. “One drop in tea every morning,” she said, pressing it into my hands. “No more. It will mask the pup’s scent for about a moon cycle. After that, you’ll need more. And Ashton...” “Yes?” “It will make the pregnancy harder on you. The masking roots force your body to work twice as hard. The fever might come back. The cold.”

I couldn’t stop shaking, my fingers hovered over the page, frozen in place even though my journal was still open on the bed, Lane’s voice from our last session echoed in my head, telling me to push through the urges, but it was impossible to hear him without remembering the warmth of his hand on my back… the weight of his gaze. The challenge had been simple, thirty days without sex, I’d barely made it past four.

Yet still… nothing. I choked on the lump in my throat, forcing the words out anyway. “We’ve done everything. The diets, the tests, the charts, the stupid P*******t hacks… name it. Every plan. Every ridiculous little trick they swore would work. And still… nothing.” His eyes softened, and I hated it. I hated pity more than I hated failure. “I hate to tell you this Sienna, but if pregnancy doesn’t happen in the next three days, it won’t happen at all. Your ovulation cycle ends in forty-eight hours. Meaning…”

And a man who makes her think. She fell asleep with a small smile. Thirty days. She had thirty days to become the perfect fucker. The next sessions would test her. She did not know it yet. But her whole world was about to change.

“Great footage today, you two. But we need a bigger spark for the fans. Big announcement for the next twenty-four hours you and Nate will be handcuffed together. The live challenge starts at dawn. Every argument, every meal, every moment on camera.” “Handcuffed?” My voice shot up. “You cannot be serious. No way in hell.” Nate moved right beside me, his shoulder pressing firm against mine. “Twenty-four hours chained to each other? This is pure hell.” The producer grinned. “Hell makes the best TV. Fans are already voting how long until you two kiss just to shut each other up?” I turned to Nate, heart slamming hard. “Kiss? Never happening. This is way too far.” His eyes dropped to my lips, dark