Heel! Calendar

It has long been the regular request of the male readers of Heel! magazine that we furnish you with some evidence proving the truth and reality of our existence upon your planet. To reward these sedulous, curious masculine minds with irrefutable and photographic proof of the fact of our perfected, curvaceous forms - physical or etheric - is the simply stated purpose of what follows in this book, which is composed of images of the leather- and rubber-clad goddess appearing in this year's calendar for the female membership of Heel!. Though widely distributed within the constellation of Bootes, the calendar for 2002 is the first that is being made generally available in book form on Earth, according to the decision by the Council of Ten meeting annually in their non-physical version of Venice.

The novice, the first-time reader of our informative texts which are published according to our requirements by Stiletto Books in London, may be excused for not realising that the Council is in truth perversely constituted by the five leaders of Heel! who are Nefertiti and Cleopatra, Queens of Egypt; Semiramis, the Queen of Babylon; Helen of Troy and Diane de Poitiers, virtual ruler of France since the Revolution. Such a reader may also be forgiven for being quite unaware of another decision taken on his behalf by the Council with imminent consequences and impact on the male population of planet Earth, concerning the sudden merging of our two worlds to form, from your point of view, a landscape apparently constructed out of liquid rubber which simultaneously will be experienced as a smooth hardening coating that covers the skin, in this fashion sealing the fate of the new class of servant men, who are your selves, the male sex.

For the observant of you, let me confirm that already in London and New York, where strategically placed you will discover the polished black obelisks of Queen Cleopatra, there is discernible to those blessed or cursed with etheric vision, the seeding of an entire architectural environment reminiscent of Ancient Egypt. And certain of the black devas have been reported as striding the very same streets as the confused and bewildered modern men who have corroborated each other's statements regarding the extreme type of shoe and boot that are worn by this alternate, approaching population of goddesses. Is it so surprising to you that the street grid in New York was borrowed from Cleopatra's city, Alexandria? That her palace and temple to our Goddess Isis should have been built beneath the sea, where the watery environment more nearly matches the liquid rubber found in the constellation of Bootes?

Which brings me to a more disturbing revelation concerning the future world which we are about to share: the sea-level will be greatly increased, its vast black expanse punctuated only by giant obeliscal and pyramidal shapes borrowed it will seem from those Nilotic landscapes, but in truth - since honesty has been declared a purpose of this introductory text - from prototypic architecture prevalent upon each of the heavenly bodies belonging to goddesses of Heel!. And like in Alexandria everyone will be dressed in black, though not as a contrast to that white-marbled city but in absolute conformity with the single prevailing and invariably polished colour. It has been said by your historians that the hardest thing for a man to comprehend, to digest and come to terms with, is the fact of his mortality, that his present will be seen as someone else's outdated past. We, the black devas, will make you each immortal; the price extracted for this sharing of our secrets, will be your freedom to act independently of our rule, which you will with equal candour readily admit has brought you little happiness and few pleasures during the many millennia of your male-dominated history.

As was the case during the Atlantean flood which was inspired by male divinity and intended to drown mankind, the compassion of our Goddess Isis will be revealed again in the emergency supplying of rubber clothing to those men deemed worthy of rescue likely to fit well within the confines of the new world order. If the reader doubts my meaning, let me quote an ancient saying attributed to Queen Cleopatra: "Leave the rod to us, the monarchs of the Nile". He will remember that the Queen, when representing the Goddess, was described as wearing entirely black and holding a whip that signified her office. A great debate had raged throughout the land prior to its silencing by employment of this same instrument of her authority, as to the origin and evolution, stepped or immediate, of the stiletto heels of her shining boots. I reveal to you, in this same forthright manner, that the first polished shoes and boots descended heeled and complete [fully conscious of their surface contours and shape] upon your planet together with men trained naturally by their sight and touch within the supernatural space of the constellation that you have named Bootes, which is to us "Heel!". If transdimensional spaceships were to be used for their transport, rather than a more instantaneous means of traversing the blackness of the heavens, then a lighthouse such as that raised at Alexandria's port, guided bound men and the colonizing members of Heel! down to Earth. In Egypt, near to Alexandria, the pleasure-city of Canopus was where slaves and their owners would recline and kneel after disembarkation.

How will the individual guess whether he is to be accepted into this other world of combined fortunes, or left to drown alongside the Goddess-defying scientist? If the date of deluge is so imminent and dire, is his exclusion indicated by the absence of a knock upon his door by the nocturnally visiting member of Heel!, perhaps sent out in response to his urgent, last-minute subscribing to Heel! magazine, the headquarters of which are in Paris? The answer is that the saving contact with Heel! may be made during the night beyond the range of normal consciousness with perhaps only the slightest physical effects appearing on skin at daybreak to evidence the transformation of flesh that has begun. Since I am agony aunt to the readers of Heel! magazine, I receive numerous accounts of just such occurrences that are sent to our Parisian offices, then forwarded to my chateau in the south-west of France. The dreamer wakens or is woken to another world where he is judged as a potential slave and if found to be innocent of basic crimes against the Goddess, undergoes a variety of treatments to his dreaming body that is reflected through the interlocking system of chakras, subsequently in the appearance and preparedness of his physical body. Three extracts from letters printed in the current issue of Heel! are reproduced below.

"Suddenly I was awakened, as if by the rapid flapping, the beating of wings of some invisible, unphysical bird of prey, a predator that hovered above my face sending shivers down my spine, through my previously drunken, dreaming mind. I was awake, yet my body was frozen in its kneeling state, hypnagogic, unresponsive to my urgings, my shocked intent to remove myself swiftly from this most vast and dark of torchlit, seemingly subterranean halls [the Hall of Judgement in the temple of Queen Hatshepsut in Egypt's Valley of the Queens]. Beside me, in a straight line that extended unbroken into blackness, each one suffering from the same immobilization of limbs, stretched the kneeling figures of dreaming or wakened men, whom I watched from the corners of my eyes which I worked frantically from side to side, by this exercise increasing the arc travelled of the pupil within the socket, permitting the widest view of these preposterous, unreal proceedings. Down the centre of the hall, between the two opposing lines of rigid men, a group of women, tall in black boots, progressed slowly from subject to subject, the sound of heel on stone signalling their growing proximity, stimulating in me the erotic response that a man might experience when confronted by the fetish object. My body felt hard as rock and was preserved in this condition of anticipation and indeed, fear. By the time that the neighbouring man was reached, I expected the repetition of what I had so far been observing as reflex behaviour in the other men; namely the involuntary, climactic lunging of his inclined torso propelled by locust legs over the smooth, cool stone towards the passing boot, as though freed in that moment from the limitation of some magical spell cast before my late arrival. Such a convincing smothering of empty, passionate kisses upon the black boot produced the ejaculation of semen that was quickly stamped upon - no sooner had it landed - by the twisting reaction of several identically shaped, pointed and polished boot-tips. A brush like a paint-brush was instead dipped into a container of liquid rubber which was directed in sprays of initiation at the fallen man who soon gained the mixed appearance of a pet dalmatian. Copying the man to his left, his predecessor in this process of acceptance or rejection, he and then I began at once to develop from these spots of black rubber a spreading surface sheen that was in parts blatantly visible upon my physical body when I woke, but mostly concealed before its further growth by my suit and shirt from the many prying eyes of the office worker...."

"I believed that I had been unjustly imprisoned within the padded cell of the psychiatric ward; the leather walls cushioned my newly rubbered body in the pitch black of its uncertain volume which was expanding and then contracting in line with my own state of consciousness and unsettled mind. Huge energies surged through me, causing a serpentine deformity of my spine by the stretch and remoulding of my interior organs, of my chest to accommodate these changes being made as I sped through the cosmic vacuum and back again, bouncing off the feminine contours of each of the revolving walls. I heard voices, female, at first mistaken to be sounding from within the microcosmic space of my elephantine mind; words, orders being uttered and shouted as commands from within the expanding globe of my rubbery elastic skull. Back and forth I flew through the dark night in a rubber ball like some black-eyed seabird immersed in a rubber slick, ricochetting off the polished leather surfaces, inserted within a rubbery, reptilian egg. Then in the inward, contracting breath, after multiple projections and deflections from leathered breasts, buttocks and thighs, three celestial ladies of the black night sky, by reducing to their miniature but superhuman size, appeared in the near-darkness of my wingless flight, immaculate before my sightless eyes whose lifeless lids they forced open by the gripping of my neck in the constricting vice of the fetish glove. Rather than being returned to the blinkered mobility of my previous dream by the releasing of my throat, my body, its appearance quite altered, remained unresponsive to my will, yielding to that of these women in shining boots before whom I now knelt, as if such an act of surrender and devotion was the most natural of behaviours in that other world, as if such an act were possible for this now prostrated reptilian man whose limbless legs were joined as one, whose narrowed, armless shoulders preferred to wriggle than swagger, whose long rubbered neck and flicking tongue are oblivious to their human past. Beside me a rubberman recoiling in dread of the further metamorphosing of his human form, his psyche thus proven maladjusted to that alien environment, is strangled by the distracted, overactive glove, his head allowed to rest upon the shining boot, awakening dead upon the physical, abandoned bed..."

"I woke within the dream more rubbered still than earlier I had physically seemed, being led by pointed boot and whip towards a moonlit exit, a descending ramp down which we wriggled, we crawl like Noah's breeds, hybridised, freed into some alien night. Ahead of the two lines of slaves that were emerging into the full moonlight of the Valley of the Queens, are rubber-clad guards moving together in the military formation of the caryatids of the the Erechtheum on the Acropolis. The floor of the valley is filled with deep liquid rubber that extends glistening, hardened, over the steep-sided rock that overlooks the Temple of the Queen Hatshepsut, Earthly and otherworldly incarnation of the one Goddess Isis, divine lady of the two lands. The sound of whips on the newly exposed backs of slaves kept captive, chosen for this future within the Hall of Judgement, echoes across the valley. Beyond, where the serpentine Nile had been, is an expanse of sea up through which project towering obelisks, pyramids and pylons encrypted with the hieroglyph, all polished black. Two scarab-beetles, their mouthparts chattering and champing, are whipped back into the air above the ramp; the slave, half-eaten, is kicked over the edge down into the black viscose sea. Only the one colour black exists here in numerous shades of shine and tone; this is no place for the undecided magpie, the striped zebra. A land-, sea- and mountainscape of cooling rubber, of molten flows, of volcanic and recent explosions stretches around me. While the bull-whip cracks down upon my hesitant back, Isis, the Goddess, slowly rises from the Nile bed to view the completion of her creatrix's work, her colossal, curving figure now emerging beneath the moon, obscuring its light. Confident at last, we begin to swim, to wriggle blindly toward her, converted rubbermen, destined for her distant Temple at Philae, the end of the known world."

The more informed of you will be aware of the news reports that the "Well of Venus" in her temple at Erice on Sicily's highest mountain, has been oozing molten rubber, pouring its surface covering over the bare rock. In Turkey, the tufaceous cascades at Pamukkale, at Cleopatra's pool, have turned to running rubber which overflows into the fields where the first seeds of the tree, Palmetto Stiletto, brought out from storage at Petra, have been successfully planted. Such are the sure signs of the growing coincidence of our two worlds and cultures, which will result from the point of view of man, in the most cataclysmic events, even death for the many. Rest assured, dear reader, that you will not be neglected by the organisation of Heel!, nor allowed to drown beneath tidal waves of a swelling ocean, but, like this new breed of rubbermen, tested during your dreams for that necessary quality of servility that you no doubt possess, having already exhibited the slave temperament and instinct by your spontaneous, even premeditated purchasing of this picture book which is of course devoted to boot-worship, being dedicated to the Goddess Isis and the new world order.