Vicki Barefoot, private eye
By Jack
A two-fisted female private investigator dishes out some justice



      It was a perfect summer's day as Vicki sat relaxing on the sun-
drenched park bench, book in hand, her tanned bare feet stretched out on
the wood before her.  This was her idea of perfection:  guys were looking
at her, the setting was pleasant, and her feet knew that there wasn't a
pair of shoes for them anywhere in their near future.

      Victoria Barefoot (that was her birth name, she couldn't have been
happier with it) was a 23-year-old registered private investigator.  She
loved her job.  Sure, it usually meant hanging around in bars to see if
upcoming fiancés would violate their impending vows (they usually did, but
Vicki could hardly blame them; she had a pretty awesome body, good choice
in skank clothes, and a winner face and personality to boot).  That, or
camping outside a hotel window taking photos; but every now and then a case
came her way which allowed her to use her incredible fighting abilities to
dish out some justice.  She knew how to use a gun and a knife, but those
weren't her kinds of weapons.  She was no killer, nor did she ever want to
be.  She was a fighter, and an absolutely perfect one, at that.  Having
been giving deserving assholes monumental ass-whoopings ever since grade
school, she knew the total and unforgettable humiliation that came when a
total jerk got thoroughly schooled by a clearly superior female fighter.
Victoria was a first-rate martial artist, and when she caught a badguy, it
was her greatest pleasure to dish out justice with her fast-flying hands
and her unstoppable bare feet.  That was another reason for her no-shoes
attitude.  When dealing out the hand-to-hand justice, she wanted to feel
every single kick as she gave the offending asshole the beating of his
life.

      Suddenly, her sharp instincts made her glance up.  Two guys, early
20's, real punks, escorting some not-too-happy kid back behind the
racquetball wall.  Usually, the courts were empty at this time, so not a
bad place to be up to no good.  Victoria put down her book and set those
feet down on the cool green grass.  Going barefoot on a perfect bed of
grass, was there any better feeling?  (OK, other than sex.)  She smiled.
Maybe she was one of the few people who understood that life was too short
not to be barefoot every second possible, but she liked that.  Going
against the crowd was definitely Victoria's style.  Vicki stood and ambled
casually across the park, almost hoping that fate was delivering her an
opportunity to do her thing.

      Vicki knew full well that she had a gift.  Well, actually, a couple
of them:  a 153 IQ, more athletic ability than most guys could ever hope
for, men throwing themselves at her constantly.  But those flying fists!
Vicki had taken up karate in kindergarten, just because her parents were
constantly trying to make her wear shoes, so she tried to find every
activity there was which demanded the earthy walk.  She had her black belt
by age 10, and she just kept going.  She had experimented with any style
she could find, and she also enjoyed boxing and kickboxing.  But the mantra
behind the martial arts that these skills should only be used for defense
was galling to her.  Back in school, if any guy hit his girlfriend or
bullied a classmate, everyone knew what would happen.  Publicly and
humiliatingly, the school-renowned justice of Vicki Barefoot would beat
them to a sobbing, bloody pulp, with a cheering crowd relishing the
overwhelming delivery of just desserts.  After a little too much justice
was dished out, though, the 16-year-old Vicki, already an obvious contender
for any championship in the martial arts community, had her belt stripped
from her.  And when she dished out some hurt on two governor's sons who
liked smacking around their girlfriends two years ago, Vicki wound up doing
six months in a correctional facility.  Time in jail may have taken away a
lot of occupational possibilities, but Vicki couldn't have been happier.
Her current job had her answering only to herself, and it used her brain,
bod, and brawn to do good.  She had a gift, a gift that had made a lot of
helpless people very happy and brought a lot of justice into a world that
was often bereft of it.  Her skills were always meted out in a deserving
manner, and she would never use them on a person who had not asked for what
they had coming.  All the same, when the opportunities came to her to use
the gifts, she couldn't deny that she loved it.


"Hey, guys.  What're you doing?"

      This was what Vicki called the bait.  Just lead them into the action
that would result in their ass-kicking.  If they were innocent, they would
never come at her in the first place.

      "What the hell are you, doing, bitch?" the smaller guy said, pulling
out his knife.

      "Bitch?"  muttered Vicki.  "I'm gonna remember you said that."

      "Calm down, Mike,"  said the bigger guy.  "You can keep the shrimp.
This is the best thing I've seen all day."

      The two bullies had almost forgotten about their quivering little
quarry standing between them.  But Vicki hadn't.  "What's going on here?"
she directed her speech clearly to him.  "Are these guys causing you a
problem?"  Talking to him, Vicki's soul was nice warm and encouraging.  It
was no wonder that the people she saved fell in love with her.

      "Shut up, bitch, I'm gonna cut you up!"  Mike the little guy stepped
forward, only to have his larger partner hold him back.

      "You shut up, Mike!"  he said, "You're ruining my chances."

      All the while, Vicki had her most encouraging of smiles focused on
the 16-year-old boy between them.  "They beat me up.  And steal my money,"
he found the courage to say.

      "Shut up, you little-"  Mike started.

      "How often and for how long?"  asked Vicki, kindly but firmly.

      "Once a week since school began."

      Vicki looked at the bigger guy, Ryan, with distaste.  "You two have
been doing this to this poor kid for two months now?"

      Mike was ready to explode, but Ryan just plied the charm.  "Tell you
what.  You spend some time with me and I'll forget about little Timmy
here."  Ryan snaked his arms around her, his hands coming to rest on her
very nicely toned butt.

      "And they make me eat dirt sometimes," came the words from little
Timmy.

      Vicki covered her revulsion quickly with the knowledge that these two
assholes were gonna be getting their just desserts very soon.  Looking at
the demoralized face of Timmy assured her that the only thing which could
keep him from being psychologically scarred for life was to witness his
tormentors being beaten to pulp like so much fluff.  Of course his
tormentors would be scarred for life, and that was just the way she liked
it.

      Vicki turned her most charming of smiles to the eyes of big Ryan.
"How do you like having your hand on my butt?"

      Ryan nodded, smiling.  Vicki happily noticed an erection developing
in his pants.

      "Then I hope you enjoy my knee in your groin!"  Her muscular leg shot
upward, driving her knee right into his unprotected balls.  A look of the
most intense surprise and pain covered Ryan's face.  A sound was obviously
welling inside of him, but his body was in too much pain to make it.

      Vicki pulled back her fist and BELT!  BELT!  Slugged Ryan twice in
the solar plexus as hard as she could.  Now she knew there was no need for
skill.  She had a few seconds to beat Ryan in whatever way she felt like.
RAT-A-TAT!  TAT!!!  Her fists did such a number on his face.  In actuality,
it was the power of her punches that was holding him up.  "Hi-YAH!!!" she
cried, and before Ryan had a chance to fall, one of those lovely bare feet,
which had brought so many men so much pleasure was used as an instrument of
perfect destruction.  That dirty, calloused sole smashed into Ryan's face,
simultaneously blackening his other eye, breaking his nose, and sending all
four of those front teeth flying.  Ryan hurtled through the air, landed on
the ground, and began bawling like a scared and ass-whooped little bully
who had just been given the beating he deserved.

      Timmy and Mike were both perfectly still, dumbstruck in surprise.  Of
course, Timmy's surprise was an instant away from absolute joy, while
Mike's was overwhelmingly filled with absolute terror.  The moment he could
find his voice, Mike yelled:  "I'll kill you, bitch!!!"  and shot forward,
glowering with anger. The next thing her knew, his arm was twisted sharply,
spasming his hand to drop the knife.  As he watched in horror, Vicki's
other hand rose sharply, then flew down with incredible force toward the
joint of his elbow!  Miraculously, so mercifully, though, it stopped right
as it made contact.

      "I want you to know," she gritted through her teeth, "that I would
never break a bone of another human being, even a bully like you.  But I
also want you to know the overwhelming pain and fear of having the living
shit kicked out of you by someone against whom you stand laughably no
chance.  So enjoy your last second of peace.  Because here it comes."

      The next thirty seconds involved a flurry of fists and feet that were
so fast, it was impossible to keep track of what was flying where.  All
that could really be seen is that every single inch of Mike's body (face,
gut, everything but the crotch) got beaten with a fury few will ever have
to experience.  And then it stopped.  And Vicki's fist on his lapel was the
only thing keeping this bawling, bleeding loser standing.

      "Beg forgiveness,"  ordered the angel of justice Vicki.

      "Please,"  blubbered Mike, "I'll--  I'll never EVER--!!"

      Vicki looked to little Timmy whose head was resolutely shaking a no
way in hell this asshole gets any mercy.  "He made me eat dogshit once."

      Vicki nodded, smiled, then inexorably turned her head back toward the
worthless loser.  His eyes widened in terror, he was full of absolute fear.

      Vicki reached into the pocket of her jeans shorts and withdrew a
business card.  Not too flashy, just her name, business number, and
profession.  She gently stuffed it down the pants of poor terrified
Michael.  He didn't know what was coming, but the fear was too much.  He
totally lost control of his bladder, and urine came rushing down his pants.
 Timmy was smiling a smile bigger than any he would ever know, and Vicki
felt so proud that she didn't even mind standing barefoot in a pool of pee.

      "My name is Vicki Barefoot.  I am a private investigator for money,
but I help anyone who needs justice.  And this, you worthless piece of
shit, is what I call an ever-loving piece of God-sent Barefoot Justice."

      WHOOMP!  WHOOMP!!  Two deliberate, methodical, belly-demolishing
punches drove into his battered gut.  WHAP!!! WHAP!!! WHAP!!! WHAP!!!
WHAP!!! Front and back, Vicki slapped her hand across the beaten bully's
quickly reddening face.  "Eyes, nose, teeth," she said sweetly.  One punch
blackened the left eye, one punch the right.  A third broke the nose, and
two more to each side of the mouth ensured that bullshit was all he'd be
able to eat for the next few days.  "Spread your legs."  Terrified to obey,
but even more so to disagree, Michael spread his legs, crying so hard he
could hardly stand it.  Those lovely toes flexed back, exposing the ball of
her right foot.  Tender yet tough, those bare feet had been massaged by so
many men and demolished so many others.  She could go barefoot anywhere,
and now she was gonna do it where Michael would always remember. BAM!!!
BAM!!! BAM!!!  Vicki took ultimate pleasure in kicking his dick.  All
Michael wanted was to crumple to the ground and bawl his eyes out, but that
fist on the lapel kept holding him up.  He couldn't see anymore through
those swelling eyelids (nor would he for the next three days), but that
lovely female voice just said,  "Stay standing for five more seconds, or
else."  It was all he could do to stay on his feet, not knowing what the
last step of the beating of his life would be.  To those who could see, the
all-muscle/no-fat/gorgeously strong but thoroughly feminine body of Vicki
Barefoot leapt up into the air, her knee pulled back into her body, and
that voice of power rang strong.  "HAA-EEEE."  Her right foot kicked out
making a wide sweep as she seemed to hang superhumanly in the air.  "YAH!"
It came, that devasting weapon of ultimate power and kicked Michael in the
face so hard that he flew all the way over the bench behind him and landed
(amazing accuracy) in a fly-infested pile of recently lain dog shit.

      And for the next thirty minutes, all those two bullies did was lie on
the ground (one stewing in a pile of dog shit, mind you) and bleed and cry
like there was no tomorrow.  They hardly even noticed the voice of barefoot
female justice ring around them.

      "Give me your money.  All of it.  That way I'm not stealing it.  You
are willingly returning every penny you have taken from my new friend Timmy
here.  I want your driver's licences, too; I'll be checking up on you to
make sure that your bullying days are over forever."  Both men threw their
wallets out on the ground and returned to wallowing in the pain,
humiliation, and defeat (and one in dog shit).

      Timmy got the money and Vicki the driver's licences.  And those two
losers Mike and Ryan never had the nerve to even raise their voices to
another person again.  And there was no denying they were scarred for life.
 Every time they saw a beautiful, athletic, superior-to-them female
thoroughly enjoying the beauty of her bare feet they were filled with the
same overwhelming terror and their bladders took on minds of their own.

      Vicki gave Timmy her card, and asked him to just call the number if
he ever knew of any injustice going on again.  Her services of absolute
justice were always available to those who needed them.  As Vicki walked
away, back to her bench and book, she took one last look at the thoroughly
freed Timmy and the beautifully bawling bullies and knew that now it was a
perfect day.


The end, but Vicki Barefoot and her Barefoot Justice will not be gone long.