Chocolate Dab Wax Monster: A Bone City Tale Featuring Kandy Fontaine, Slutty Detective
Bone City never slept. It twitched. It moaned. It pulsed with neon and pheromones, a place where reality bent under the weight of too much lube and not enough law. And in the heart of it all, behind the velvet curtain of a strip club called the Velvet Guillotine, Kandy Fontaine stirred a bubbling vat of madness.
She wore a lab coat over fishnets, stilettos that could puncture a man’s soul, and a smirk that had gotten her banned from three dimensions. Kandy wasn’t just a slutty detective—she was a chaos chemist, a femme fatale with a PhD in bad decisions.
“Joe,” she said, not looking up from the swirling goo, “this is going to change everything.”
Joe Oroborous, her partner in crime and tantric yoga instructor, leaned against the wall, puffing on a vape pen that smelled like enlightenment and regret. He was shirtless, as usual, his body a roadmap of tattoos and bite marks.
“You said that last time,” he replied. “We ended up summoning a sentient bong that tried to unionize.”
“This is different,” Kandy said, dropping a strand of Velociraptor DNA into the vat. “Chocolate dab wax. Ninety-nine percent THC. Spliced with dinosaur genetics. It’ll get you stoned and make you extinct.”
Joe raised an eyebrow. “You’re making a weedosaur.”
“I prefer ‘ChocoDabadon’.”
The vat hissed. The goo bubbled. The DNA writhed. Then—boom.
The explosion was small, but the consequences were not. From the shattered beaker and swirling smoke emerged a creature: ten feet tall, dripping with resin, its scales glistening like caramelized obsidian. It had claws shaped like dab tools and eyes that pulsed with psychedelic fury.
It roared—a sound like a bong hit amplified through a Marshall stack—and smashed through the wall, lumbering into the neon-lit streets of Bone City.
The monster’s breath was pure THC. Entire blocks were hotboxed in seconds. Citizens wandered in a daze, giggling, munching on street lamps, proposing to fire hydrants. The mayor declared the city a “420 sanctuary” and married a vending machine.
Kandy and Joe watched from the rooftop of the Velvet Guillotine, sipping mezcal and trying not to inhale too deeply.
“We need to stop it,” Joe said. “Before it turns the whole city into a stoner wasteland.”
Kandy lit a joint shaped like a crucifix. “Bone City’s already a stoner wasteland.”
“Fair. But this thing’s different. It’s primal. It’s horny. It’s high.”
Kandy exhaled. “So are we.”
They tracked the beast to the ruins of the Bone City Zoo, where it had built a nest out of vape cartridges, lingerie, and discarded copies of High Times. It was mating with a billboard of Tommy Chong.
“We need to neutralize it,” Joe said, loading his vape gun with concentrated CBD rounds.
Kandy shook her head. “No. We need to seduce it.”
Joe blinked. “You mean…?”
“Yes. We turn it into a smokable sex toy.”
Back at the lab, they worked fast. Kandy synthesized a pheromone blend from crushed aphrodisiac terpenes and Joe performed a tantric summoning ritual involving goat yoga and interpretive moaning. The monster arrived, drawn by the scent and the sound, its eyes swirling like lava lamps.
It roared, but this time it sounded… curious.
Kandy stepped forward, holding a vibrating nanotech dildo shaped like a raptor claw. “Hey, big guy,” she purred. “Wanna get smoked and stroked?”
The monster paused. Sniffed. Drooled.
Joe activated the containment field. The latex wrapped around the creature like a lover’s embrace. The nanotech pulsed. The pheromones surged. The beast moaned—a sound like Cheech and Chong having a spiritual awakening.
Then it compressed. Shrunk. Transformed.
The result? The world’s first THC-powered, dinosaur-themed, smokable sex toy.
Bone City sobered up. The monster was gone. The streets were safe. And Kandy Fontaine had a new product line: Jurassic Joints™—Get Stoned. Get Boned.
The mayor annulled his marriage to the vending machine and declared Kandy a civic hero. Joe got a tantric medal of honor. The Velvet Guillotine hosted a launch party featuring edible lingerie and a DJ who only played whale sounds.
Kandy lit the tip of the claw and took a drag. “Tastes like victory.”
Joe nodded. “And extinction.”
But Bone City never stayed quiet for long.
A week later, a haunted vape lounge opened on the edge of town. Rumor had it the ghost of a foot fetishist was seducing customers through scented fog. Kandy packed her pheromone pistol. Joe grabbed his lube grenades.
They rode off into the haze, ready for the next case.
Because in Bone City, weird was just the beginning.
Horror Sleaze Trash 