Dubai 2033: Dubai had descended into a vortex of debauchery, its once glamorous facade tarnished by the darkest depths of excess. The air hung heavy with the pungent scent of decadence - the scents of sweat, sperm, designer perfume and human feces mingling with the desert's warm embrace. The city, once revered as a modern-day oasis, had become a hotbed of moral decay, where the innocent days of yore were but a fading memory.
Gone were the whimsical echoes of the "Wild West" days, where Instagram influencers reveled in a playful dance with fame and the “Dubai porta potty” parties of yore were the most degenerate happening one could imagine. Dubai had now been thrust into a realm of infamy, a grotesque parody of itself. The comparison to Las Vegas seemed almost nostalgic and quaint, as the city had morphed into a notorious playground of vice and wickedness.
Years of war and upheaval in Russia and Eastern European nations had unleashed a tide of Eastern European prostitutes seeking refuge in the embrace of the UAE. Dubai, the least conservative Emirate, had become their chosen sanctuary, a haven for wayward souls seeking solace in the shadows of the glaring sun of the desert playground. The influx of crypto bros and hedonistic thrill-seekers had paved the way for a society that teetered on the edge of moral and structural collapse.
The very fabric of Islamic society began to unravel as Dubai sought to entice more Western tourists by legalizing marijuana. The delicate balance between tradition and modernity shattered, like a fragile crystal hitting the unforgiving ground. The city's streets transformed into a dystopian stage, where orgies and debauched acts played out unabashedly amidst the clouds of cannabis smoke, no longer hidden behind closed doors or aboard the lavish yachts of the elite. Now just walking down the Marina one could witness the infamous “Dubai Porta Potty” acts in the open on the street multiple times per day. It was not uncommon to see tigers and other exotic animals thrown into the mix of the daily and nightly street orgies. Sometimes the tigers would hurt the girls and they would even allow them to rip off a hand or other limb during sexual acts, for the right price. The once pristine streets were now coated in the feces and blood of sugar babies and tigers, littered with trash and the butts of marijuana cigarettes. Some even briefly considered creating a fourth palm as an ad hoc landfill.
The once-pristine beaches, kissed by the azure waves, now lay desecrated. Used condoms, human feces, and discarded designer clothes and handbags adorned the sandy shores, a grotesque tapestry of decadence. The cries of seagulls mingled with the stench of decay, the salty tang of the sea now overshadowed by the putrid odor of excess. Designer labels no longer denoted elegance; they had become a gaudy uniform of conspicuous consumption, flaunted shamelessly throughout the city. “Dubai-style”, they called it, an amalgamation of ostentatious luxury and label-clad excess. Fruits, the eponymous Tokyo street style magazine which chronicaled Harajuku and other underground Japanese street styles even did an edition called “Dubai-Style”.
Plastic surgeries in Dubai became more and more ostentatious and artificial - at one time women got plastic surgery to enhance their normal beauty, keep aging at bay and maybe fix their nose and breasts to look more appealing- not anymore. The results of the insane size and number of breast implants resulted in monstrous results sometimes with more than 2 breasts and no nipples, lip injections and BBLs had ballooned to cartoon proportions; most of the escorts around Dubai didn’t even look human anymore but the more grotesque and monstrous their appearance, the higher price they fetched. Now that tigers had become a sexually fetishized animal, women began getting surgeries to look more tiger-like, taking the work of Jocelyn Wildenstein to the next level. These no longer human looking artificial creatures slithered up and down the Marina sometimes carrying 3 or more designer handbags on their body at once to flaunt the trophies won from doing the most debauched acts known to man and beast for their sugar daddies, their designer clothes falling off to show their monstrous surgeries and scars, a new status symbol alongside Birkin bags in the wretched metropolis of excess.
But amid the chaos and the gradual erosion of its soul, Dubai's sheiks, custodians of tradition, finally made a stand. They yearned to reclaim the city's lost heritage, to purge the corruption that had festered within its very core. The tide turned, and a wave of retribution washed over the city's debased landscape.
All sugar babies, prostitutes, escorts, and women of the night were rounded up, their fate sealed by the judgment of a totalitarian state. The sprawling trials became a spectacle of condemnation, where hundreds of women faced judgment each day. Some were fortunate enough to escape, fleeing back to Eastern Europe to evade their reckoning. But for those who remained, a dark fate awaited.
The crackling flames licked at the sky as piles of Hermes, Chanel, and other designer handbags were confiscated, transformed into offerings for a fiery purge reminiscent of the infamous book burnings of Nazi Germany. The air thickened with the acrid scent of burning leather, mingling with the sickening sweetness of melting plastic and scorched fabric, revealing the true composition of these designer bags - plastic coated cheap leather - and their true value, ZERO. The crackling of flames echoed through the night, a macabre symphony of destruction.
Outside the halls of justice, the condemned sugar babies were stripped of their extravagant wardrobes. Their bodies, once adorned with the trappings of luxury, were now laid bare to the world. The clattering sound of scissors met the whispers of the wind as locks of hair fell to the ground, leaving the women shorn, their heads shaven in a cruel echo of past atrocities. Like "femmes tondues" of the French occupation, they bore the mark of public shame.
For those deemed the worst offenders, more severe punishments awaited. Corporal retribution rained upon them, their bodies a canvas for the state's iron fist. Synthetic fillers forcibly dissolved, returning the flesh to its natural state, while breast and butt implants were excised, leaving behind scars both physical and psychological. The government orchestrated grand spectacles, setting ablaze the remnants of artificial beauty, as fires blazed, consuming the discarded breast implants. Melted silicon, burning plastic, and charred leather intertwined in a grotesque smoldering ballet of smoke and fire that could be smelled from miles away.
Guillotines, once a symbol of rebellion against one’s monarchal masters, now stood as instruments of finality and control for the Islamic state. Hermes, the leather goods and fashion house, reluctantly answered the UAE's call, to craft Hermes branded guillotines and guillotine baskets - a symbolic message to the condemned and the world. Live by the Birkin, Die by the Birkin.
Along the Marina, the gleaming blades of the grotesque contraptions awaited their dreadful purpose. Lined up like silent sentinels, they whispered tales of ultimate retribution and irreversible finality, waiting the next days series of executions. When the Hermes baskets were overflowing with heads for the day, they were unceremoniously dumped into the waters of the Marina. For a brief 3 week period in September - deemed “The Great Terror 2.0” - the waters of the Dubai Marina were red with blood. Trying to not let these newly salvaged materials go to waste, the rest of the bones and other human remains of the all the prostitutes (stripped of silicon and plastic of course) were used to to start construction on a fourth large scale island project which was later found out to be far more environmentally friendly than dredging the sea floor and destroying coral reefs and countless marine life to fill in the artificial islands. This island was named Skull and Bags Island and was shaped like a human skull to both be able to play on a fun pirate theme for tourists while reminding everyone of the lethal consequences of debauchery. Hermès relaunched their Dubai flagship store on the island which became a popular attraction for tourists and locals alike.
But eventually, the purge came to an end, leaving behind a city scarred but resolute. Dubai, like the phoenix, rose from the ashes of its own debauchery and the bloodbath needed to eradicate it, determined to forge a new path. Traditional culture reclaimed its rightful place, like a forgotten gem unearthed and polished to brilliance. It took a few years for things to finally settle down and for the city to claim a new stability after what became known just as the era of التطهير العظيم or the Great Purge. Dubai blossomed into a center of intellectual curiosity and esoteric exploration. The desert winds carried with them the scent of parchment and forgotten ancient knowledge, mingling with the fragrance of blooming desert flowers. The city's transformation became palpable, resonating in the very air one breathed.
The Dubai skyline, once dominated by gaudy displays of opulence, transformed into a symphony of architectural marvels housing institutions of higher learning and culture and centers of esoteric exploration. Gone were the littered beaches and plastic palaces dedicated to pleasure, replaced by serene gardens and peaceful places to meditate. The remnants of the past had been cleansed, and in their place, a newfound serenity settled upon the land. The Marina, once a theater of decadence, now embraced the ethereal beauty of contemplation. The Hermès guillotines, once instruments of punishment, were repurposed as symbols of Dubai's commitment to knowledge, their baskets now overflowing with scrolls and manuscripts instead of heads. The city's streets, once filled with a chaotic mix of excess and decadence, now overflowed with the energy of intellectual discourse. Scholars from around the world flocked to Dubai, drawn by the allure of its prestigious universities and renowned research centers.
As day turned to night, the city's skyline twinkled with the lights of wisdom. The legacy of the great sugar baby inquisition became a cautionary tale, a reminder of the dangers of excess and the importance of balance. The scars of the past became beacons of remembrance, a solemn reminder of the dangers of excess. Lessons learned, Dubai soared towards a brighter future, its soul forever transformed.
