Skilled Soles, part 2
By Jack
Two women, four bare feet, ten men beaten into unbearable pain


Trish and Kristin had just had an incredible night. The two had never met, but
it was obvious they were peas in a pod. They were both traffic- stoppingly
gorgeous, incredibly smart, impeccably fashionable, and totally barefoot. The
girls had spent the night laughing about when the first realized the joys of
barefooting, their favorite places to go barefoot, longest periods of time in
bare feet, and so on. And they'd had a great night of partying. Kristin didn't
drink, but Trish had drunk practically every guy in the bar under the table.

Oh, and there was also the fight. Two guys early in the night thought it would
be fun to harass Trish and Kristin, to which Trish had responded by beating
them both into bloody pulps. Little did Trish know that Kristin was quite
probably one of the five finest fighters in the world, male or female
(actually, pretty much the top 20 are all females, and total barefooters to
boot). But Kristin had been fairly certain that Zeke's friends would be back
to avenge their friend, and that would be her opportunity.

As the two women padded back to Kristin's car at 4 in the morning, it
happened. Ten men, all armed with bats, planks, or knives surrounded them in
the parking lot. Trish, fairly drunk, looked around in total surprise. "What
the fuck is this?"

Kristin moved calmly against the wall of the building. Unlike Trish, she knew
that kicking ass meant strategy as well as barefoot girl power, and she was
maneuvering this gang of bullies into a situation where each and every one of
them would get beaten humiliatingly but deservedly into bloody pulps by
gorgeously superior barefoot babes.

Nate, the leader, stepped to the front, slapping his wooden plank into his
hand for effect. "All right, dyke," he glowered at Trish, "Zeke was drunk and
he's been sick lately, and you put him in the hospital for the next month.
He'll lose his job and he'll be a laughing stock! So you and your friend
better say your prayers because each one of us is gonna beat you two shitless
and then fuck both of you silly."

A scrawny little man with a black eye, and bandaged nose, and missing teeth
hobbled forward with a knife outstretched. "I'm gonna kill you, bitch," he
hissed at Trish. "I'm gonna kill you!"

Kristin glanced over at Trish, who looked absolutely terrified. "What they,
don't usually come back for revenge?"

Trish gulped. "Well, yeah, they convince themselves that they were drunk, and
so I beat the crap out of them again ... but not ten guys who are armed!"

Kristin grinned. "Then I guess I'll have to take care of this." And faster
than anyone could see she whipped a small gun out of the purse and fired two
shots. Two of the men's bats were splintered into pieces by perfectly aimed
bullets. All ten of the men went in an instant from mob lust to individual
fear.

"All right, now," Kristin smiled, "let's get the coward with the knife to go
kill my friend."

"Huh?" that same scrawny man who had been so brave 10 seconds ago now had a
look of absolute terror on hi face. "No!" Then Kristin grabbed him with her
left hand and jerked him forward. To keep his momentum going, she brought up
her left bare foot and shoved him forcibly toward Trish. Trish who was
grinning like the Cheshire cat as she leaped into the air and extended a
dirt-covered sole into his face.

KERPOW! The poor man flew through the air and thudded to the ground. His
friends looked on helplessly as Trish heaved him to standing and proceeded to
use her fists and feet to beat him mercilessly. But there was nothing they
could do as Kristin's gun was trained on them.

"help, please, no!" "I'll do anything!" "I've got sombreros!" The pleas for
help got increasingly pathetic, until Trish was done. Then she had one of her
own.

"Trick or treat, smell my feet, now you're really gonna bleed!" And with that,
she gave a perfect punt that slammed into his face. But Trish sent it a just a
light enough strength that the man landed on the ground in unbearable pain but
not unconscious. All he could do was lie there and cry uncontrollably.

"Now," said Kristin, "here's the plan. My name is Kristin Jones, and I am a
force of Barefooted Female Justice. Any man who attacks a woman deserves to be
beaten silly, and that's exactly what my friend and I are about to do to you."
And with one click, she popped the cartridge out of the gun and dropped it to
the ground. "Uh, oh, I dropped my gun ... guess I'll just have to use bare
feet!"

And what Trish saw next was beyond anything she could have imagined. This
model perfect woman turned to her and said: "If you could just take two or
three, I think I can handle the rest." And then she turned and leaped into the
air, each leg shot out and drove a meaty flexed foot into the head of one of
the helpless men. And for the next few minutes, Trish watched in awe as
Kristin's forehead, hands, feet, elbows, knees, and even breasts (just once)
clobbered seven men mercilessly. Trish did her part by grabbing two of the
guys and beating them silly, but she watched in awe as those seven men were
turned into chop suey.

Once it was all done, Kristin turned and walked with a barefooted dignity over
to her new friend Trish.

"OK, I'm good," Trish stammered, "I could have taken maybe three of those
guys, but ... "

Kristin shrugged. "Barefooted Female Justice. That's what I'm going to do."

Trish had no idea what was going on.

"You and me are going to be barefooted ministers of justice. I'll pay you,
train you, ... we'll need one more partner, and the three of us will go from
town to town, city to city using our feet to dish out the justice that the law
can't always get to."

Trish looked at her, wild-eyed. "You mean, we're gonna go around, beating up
badguys, and making them wish that they'd never heard the word "babes in bare
feet".

Kristin smiled and nodded.

Trish lifted her left naked sole, spat on it, and held it up to Kristin.
"Shake on it."

Kristin lifted her foot, spat on the dirty sole, and pressed it against
Trish's bare foot.

"BAREFOOTIN'!" she cried and the two new best friend hugged each other
excitedly.

The next day, Trish walked up to Kristin holding out the front page. "I think
we've got our third Minister of Barefooting and Justice."

Kristin looked at the paper, and her eyes went wide.

In the next edition of Skilled Soles, our three heroines will continue chasing
the nice guys, ass-whooping the bad guys, and spreading the message of
"barefooted female self-reliance" to women everywhere.

As Kristin says: "Barefootin'!"