Mack Zack
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December 2022 Story (Chapter 4)
🕑 Added 2023-01-11 06:22:59 +0000 UTCFor the next month, Pawel became the only guard to willingly feed Baba Bosh. Moretz once asked him why he didn’t try to place the task on anyone else. Pawel replied, “Well, she’s a nice old lady.” Word spread around that Pawel actually called the infamous Baba Bosh a “nice old lady”. Some laughed, while others were disgusted. Jacek shook his head in dismay, wondering if the boy had gone mad. Instead of cleaning the dungeon from time to time, he ordered Pawel to man the tower more often. The captain said some fresh air would make him come to his senses.
But the fresh air never made Pawel change his opinion of Baba Bosh. Jacek let him be then. Better to leave the job to someone else than to themselves. Moretz started to joke that Pawel had a girlfriend, something he denied but also blushed while saying so.
Pawel knew he was in denial about being attracted to Baba Bosh. He could not stop stealing glances at her curvaceous figure. Staring into her striking hazel eyes for too long made him nervous, made butterflies fill his chest. He honestly didn’t think she was unattractive at all. Sure, she was disheveled and had worn the same clothes for years, but he bet that after a good wash she would make heads turn.
Moreover, he found her so interesting. She spent almost half her life in jail and yet she had done so much more than he did at his age. She had actually been born in the outer village of Pometzia, and ran away from an abusive uncle after her parents died. She then lived alone in the woods learning to hunt, cook, and live for herself. She recounted her life story to him on New Year’s Eve. He sat on the floor listening intently.
“I became a woman of the woods,” she said. “It was quite nice actually, living in a cottage that I built myself and becoming somewhat of a rumor.”
She still recalled where she built her house. It was situated in a hilly clearing near the river, where she could watch people fish and walk the path. There she would give firewood and fresh eggs to travelers. She offered fortunes and therein found a penchant for knowing how people were going to die. The visions weren’t quite like Pawel thought; she never looked into a crystal ball or fell into a trance. Instead, the thought just came to her organically as she pictured it in her head. People did return to her sometimes thanking her for helping them cheat death.
“But then when the witch hunts began, I had to leave,” she said solemnly. “Every kingdom from here to the desert became fanatic about hunting witches. Women who lived alone in the woods were dragged out of their homes and hung by their necks. Any woman who seemed to know too much or do too much was seen as a witch. There was no rhyme or reason to it. I fled to Walcha and tried to make a living there.” She then shrugged. “When all else failed, I resorted to working in the world’s oldest profession.”
Pawel looked stumped. “Cooking?”
Baba Bosh rolled her eyes and sighed in exasperation. “No, Pawel. Prostitution.”
“Oh. Right, right.”
“You really are cute; do you know that?” she said with a smirk. “I wish I still had your innocence.”
Pawel cleared his throat. “Really? I don’t think it’s…that great. I find myself getting into plenty of awkward situations. But.” He nodded. “I do what I can.”
“Keep doing that. Very few carry on like you do.”
“I think I heard rumors about how you can foresee people’s deaths. I wanted to ask…um…what do you see about me?”
Baba Bosh tilted her head, staring at him. She squinted. Pawel grew worried the longer it took her to answer.
“What is it?” he asked, unable to contain the anxiety.
“I think I’ll tell you later,” Baba Bosh said. Something in her tone told Pawel that something was off. Maybe his fortune was unlike any other, and that put him on edge.
“Is it that bad?”
“No. It’s just that I usually do that to scare the men who bother me. I don’t want to do that to you.”
Echoing from across the fortress, they heard the growing revelry of the coming New Year. Guards and servants alike were celebrating, eating and drinking and dancing. Nobody was really caring much to perform their duties, except for Pawel of course.
Baba Bosh bit her lip and then said, “Say, Pawel, can you do me a favor?”
“What is it?”
“It has been so long since I have had a drink.”
He raised a brow. “I just gave you water.”
“No, no, a DRINK. Wine. Beer. Ale. Mead! The good stuff!”
“Ohhh.”
She crawled over to the bars and pressed up her face against them, giving him a puppy-dog look. “Please? I’ve sat here through many celebrations listening to many people have fun upstairs. You can maybe get me a mug of ale, couldn’t you? Just one is good enough. Whatever you can get your hands on.”
Pawel found no reason not to, and everyone upstairs would probably be too drunk to care or even notice him taking anything.
“Of course!” He shot to his feet. Before leaving he realized he still felt awkward not knowing her name, being that he felt the need to address her by a proper name. So he asked for it again.
Baba Bosh smirked at him again. “Maybe I’ll tell you one day. Maybe not. Who knows?”
Pawel had no trouble fetching a pitcher of beer for her. He first grabbed a pint but then figured it’s the New Year, why not make it better for her? He grabbed a pint for himself and the pitcher for Baba Bosh. Jacek and the other guards were drunk and flirting with all the maids of the castle. Pawel bumped shoulders with everyone on the way up and down. Nobody paid any attention to him.
Baba Bosh praised him upon returning. “An entire pitcher! By the gods, you sure do know how to give a lady a good time.”
Pawel actually sat inside her cell to drink. The beer was dark, stout, and a bit frothy. Maybe a little too dark for his taste, but he didn’t complain. Baba Bosh took a few sips and then went, “Ah! That’s the stuff! By the gods, I have not drunk this since…well…I don’t even remember when!”
Pawel eyed her whenever she took a sip. His body tingled and his blood rushed with excitement. Why? He tried to understand, though deep down he had an inkling. Baba Bosh’s ability to drink and eat seemed unfathomable.
“You said something a while ago about being able to drink five liters of ale?” he asked.
Baba Bosh scoffed. “Yea. I could outdrink any man under the table. Be them noble or knave.”
Pawel hid his excitement behind his cup. “Do you think…you can still do it?”
After a few seconds of silence, she said, “Do you think you can sneak five liters down here?”
“I could try.”
Baba Bosh then narrowed her eyes. “But just me? That would be no fun. Surely, you’ve engaged in a drinking contest before, being in the guard and all.”
Pawel’s blank stare told her no. Baba Bosh nearly dropped the pitcher and exclaimed, “Boy, have you done ANYTHING with your life yet? How old ARE you?”
“Eight and twenty.”
“And you NEVER competed in a drinking contest?”
Pawel shook his head, slightly ashamed.
Baba Bosh calmed down. She pursed her lips. “Well, you’re in luck. With Baba Bosh you are going to REALLY drink. Fetch us more beer!”
The idea of engaging in a drinking contest with her made him apprehensive. This wasn’t what he had in mind. He enjoyed the thought of watching her get drunk and bloated, but the idea of him also being in the same state didn’t sit well with him. Still, if it was the only way to get her to do it, then so be it.
Pawel made a couple trips up and down the stairs to smuggle the pitchers of beer. When he had five liters, they laid them out in a row and sat next to them.
“You’re going to lose, you know,” she said, matter-of-factly. “But be glad it’s with me and not with the castle guards. Think of this like a practice lesson.”
They both put the first pitcher to their lips, and on the count of three they began chugging. Pawel started feeling full almost immediately. He hadn’t even finished the first pitcher when he needed to stop and take a breath. Meanwhile, Baba Bosh completely downed her pitcher and was on to the next one without stopping.
When Pawel finished his first, his stomach wanted to explode. The thought of taking even one more sip made him nauseous. He felt a burp trying to worm its way up to his chest. He put a hand to his mouth.
Baba Bosh stopped for a second to belch during her second liter. The sound told him how deeply relieving it must have been to her, especially the satisfying grunt afterwards. She chuckled before continuing to chug.
When Pawel still didn’t even touch his second liter, Baba Bosh stopped again to say, “What are you doing? If you need to burp, burp! Out with it!”
Pawel blushed. The idea of it embarrassed him, gripped him to his very core. But when Baba Bosh belched another time, with such ferocity, Pawl relaxed and let loose.
Almost immediately, he felt better. The hot air swept through his nose and mouth like a dragon. He could instantly start drinking again. Once he started his second liter, Baba Bosh nodded and said, “There you go! Embrace your manliness. Come on!”
He drank and belched shyly at first, then chugged on without holding back. Each belch satisfied the building pressure. Sharing this vulnerability with Baba Bosh made him feel warm inside. His belches would never match up to hers. That very fact aroused him. She displayed a greater sense of manliness in that regard than he did. She could dominate him, and he secretly reveled in that.
But now Pawel was becoming so full that his trousers felt tight. He looked down at his growing gut. Baba Bosh’s skirt looked tight around her waistline too, like when he force-fed her before. She was slowing down towards the end of her fourth liter. She stopped to breathe and burp, and looked a little dazed, a little overwhelmed. She moaned and stared into space with a dull expression. She seemed to focus on something, narrowing her eyes, and then the button on her skirt popped open. It didn’t break off entirely, but simply opened up her skirt with a loud pop. Once her belly hung out, Baba Bosh sighed and released one of the longest guttural belches, a real growl like a wild animal.
Pawel watched her drink and drink…and she struggled with the final liter. She patted her belly and needed time to take another breath. He continued to drink, quickly reaching his limit. Once Baba Bosh took the last sip of her final liter, Pawel gave up. He dropped his empty pitcher, letting it roll on the floor.
“Hah!” Baba Bosh said. “You did---braaaaurrrrp---good. But…uff…not good enough.”
The two of them laid down on the floor, bellies up. Pawel had never gotten drunk before, so all of this was becoming overwhelming. The effects hadn’t taken hold of him yet, so he was nervous.
“How do you…drink so much?”
Baba Bosh propped herself up on one elbow to face him. She was about to speak when a loud gurgle from her belly traveled up, releasing itself as a large uncouth belch. Pawel could feel the stink of alcohol in his face.
“Practice. Just. Practice.”
Pawel admired that. He couldn’t think of anything he practiced so much that he got it down pat. He should take something up. He was a king’s guard anyhow. He needed to be proficient in something.
“I wish I was adept at something,” he said.
“You’re young. You’ve got time. By gods, I even learned some things when I was in jail. Like how to break wind like a fiend. Hahahahaha!”
“You keep saying ‘by gods’. How come?”
“That’s right – I nearly forgot that the civil war nearly erased all pagan beliefs. I believe in multiple gods. Gods in the trees, in the water, in the wind.” She held in her breath and grunted as she broke wind.
“Even that?” Pawel said.
Baba Bosh laughed, and the laughter was contagious.
She indulged Pawel in the history of the pagans, of her people, and as he listened he realized he was getting drunker (as was she). His vision didn’t exactly blur but he started to feel a little giddy and kept thinking things were farther away than they really were.
Baba Bosh looked like a satisfied bloated dragon, rubbing her belly and looking pleased with each belch that rolled out of her mouth. “I have not had the pleasure of being so drunk in ages.” She hiccupped. “Thank you.”
Baba Bosh then crawled over to the pitchers that Pawel didn’t finish. He sat up in amazement. She was really trying to drink more! She then crawled over to him with the pitcher.
Or…was she?
“Come on, you can have some more,” she said drunkenly, smiling.
Pawel grimaced, refusing to her let pour the beer into his mouth. But she kept trying to force it into his mouth. It occurred to him, briefly, the role-reversal here.
A sudden relief came over him. His trousers felt looser and his belly less tight. He then realized that Baba Bosh had undone his buckle and button, freeing his belly. Before he could say anything, he let fly a massive belch, one that made him recoil like a cannon. The relief was unlike anything he had ever felt before, and he was ashamed to even think about admitting it.
“There we go!” Baba Bosh said, patting his gut. She slurred her words more now. “Feel better now? You hafta admit that made some room. Now drink up. I said that with me you REALLY gotta drink.”
He let her pour the pitcher in his mouth and let the beer fill his stomach.
Soon…he could not remember a damn thing.
