Turborangers - Barking New Turbos!

The final shreds of Turborangers’ courage dissolve under the monster's domination. Even the brightest spirit cannot withstand the tide forever. What remains of the Sentai Turbo team is neither victory nor defeat—it is something far worse: an existence stripped of all memory, purpose, and will.

The last leash snaps shut—and it drags you with it!

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Play dead, Rangers!

The V Turbo Bazooka cannon shrieked, belching a spiral-charged wave of slime-tinted energy straight into Riki's cocoon. It didn't explode—it infiltrated. The blast wasn't heat. It was rot. Invasive, mind-tunneling, soul-binding. His body took it all. His back arched. His eyes rolled. He screamed a sound that shouldn't come from a human throat.

"GGGAAAAAGHHHHH—AAAAHHHHHHHHH—F-FUCK!! FUCK!! NO!! STOP STOP STOP STOP—IT'S—IT'S IN ME!! IT'S INSIDE—MY SPINE!!"

His armor writhed. The once-sturdy Ranger suit began to liquefy. The chestplate bent, stretching into form-fitting latex that glistened obscenely. His gloves melted together, fusing over twitching fingers. His thighs ballooned under rubber sheen. His crotch convulsed. The spiral light crawled along every contour, pulsing deeper into his nerves. The cocoon twitched in response, pumping the energy in rhythm to his moans.

His HUD shattered into swirls. Data failed. Instincts bled out. Something new surged in—something that wanted to crawl, bark, and serve.

Haruna moaned. "YESSSS! HE'S GLOSSING!! I CAN SEE HIM SHINE!! I CAN SMELL HIS FEAR AND SWEAT COMING THROUGH THE RUBBER!!"

Youhei howled. "HE'S GONNA BARK!! I SWEAR HE'S GONNA FUCKING WAG!!"

Daichi tore at his own chestplate, spirals throbbing under his skin. "YES—YES—ONE MORE SCREAM!! ONE MORE BARK!!"

Shunsuke crouched low, tongue licking the air. "LET HIM GO, SUIT. DRENCH HIS MIND!! MAKE HIM OUR RED DOG!!"

Inside, Riki bucked once more. His breath rattled. His lips curled.

Then, it happened. One bark. "RUFF!!"

Loud. Cracked. Obedient.

The room froze. Then, the eruption. Haruna exploded into spasms. "HE FUCKIN' BARKED!! THAT'S OUR SOUND!! HE BELONGS!!"

Youhei screeched, rolling on the floor. "I WANNA MATE WITH HIS SUIT!! BRING HIM TO US!!"

Daichi collapsed, weeping, stroking his thighs. "FUCK ME—FUCK—HE’S BEAUTIFUL!! HE’S PERFECT!!"

Shunsuke stood tall, satisfied. "WELCOME, RED. TO YOUR TRUE FORM. TO YOUR FAMILY."

Riki sagged inside his suit, twitching. Mind blank. Rubberized. Ready.

The spiral pulled tight, and the pack prepared to receive him.

Riki never walked into the pit. He was hauled, ripped from the slime like a squirming, malformed pup dragged from the birth sac of some gluttonous abyss. His body wasn’t even upright; he was still half-pinned in the foul cocoon, his arms trapped at his sides, thighs pressed together and locked in a tightening seal of rubber and gurgling filth. Every time he twitched, the muck hissed and bubbled, clinging to his armor like living glue. Slime ropes clung to his waist, writhing in slow loops, tightening with each passing second. He couldn’t even breathe properly—the suit’s internal temperature had spiked, trapping him in sweat and panic. His vision fogged. It was then, from the shadows behind him, that Zukabarka struck.

One bloated, dripping arm extended like a cliff of rot. His fingers, fat and twitching, gripped the top of Riki’s helmet and wrenched upward with a noise like tearing hide. Riki's body jerked from the cocoon with a sickening squelch, his legs still tangled in the bubbling muck, the slime stretching in obscene strands as he was pulled halfway free. A terrible suction sound echoed as globs of goop clung to his thighs, snapping like sinew. He gasped and howled in sheer panic, his screams raw with denial, echoed by the thick choking stench of bile-slick corruption. The once-pristine red Tyrannosaurus-themed skintight suit, now coated in filth and dripping with sweat, clung to his form like a second skin slicked with spiral heat. Each breath fogged the inside of his visor, his own panic rebounding on him with every exhale.

"NO! NO, FUCK! DON'T—DON'T PULL ME OUT! NOT LIKE THIS! Shunsuke! PLEASE!" Riki’s voice cracked under strain, muffled by the fogged inner faceplate of his warped helmet. His body trembled, spasmed, fought to break free, but the suction of the cocoon refused to release his lower half. The muck clutched him like a womb refusing to relinquish a malformed spawn. His arms remained pinned, only his head and chest exposed to the cold reek of the surrounding horror.

Zukabarka loomed from behind, his gargantuan form blotting out what little light remained. His mass was obscene—folds of gelatinous meat layered upon each other, sloshing and gurgling like a swamp given breath. Each movement rippled his flesh, a grotesque rhythm of decay. His breath was thick and wet, steaming in waves, each exhale a foul mist of spoiled fat and fermented despair. He leaned in low, his neck folds quivering as he chuckled. His mouth twitched with delight as strings of filth drooled from his lips.

"HEHHH HEHHH HEHHH. DON'T WHINE, LITTLE RED. LOOK. LOOK AT WHAT YOUR FRIENDS HAVE BECOME."

Zukabarka twisted Riki’s helmet forward, yanking his head with monstrous ease, forcing his gaze ahead. There, pacing in a tight, drooling circle, were his teammates. His family. His brothers and sister in arms. They were all still wearing their helmets and suits, still bearing the proud marks of the Turborangersangers, but nothing about them was heroic anymore. The suits, once symbols of strength and resolve, now writhed over their bodies like carnivorous second skins, twitching and pulsing with every breath. The visors had a glaze to them—coated from within by fog and froth.

Haruna was bent low, hips swaying, palms pressed to the slime-coated floor as she ground her helmeted snout against a slickened wall, panting with desperation. Her voice was husky and warped.

"MMNNHHH YEAH… HE SMELLS LIKE FEAR NOW. LET ME RUB CLOSER."

Youhei, on all fours, tailbone twitching beneath his suit, snarled low with feral hunger as he growled, "GOTTA SNIFF THAT COURAGE OUTTA HIM. RIP IT OUT. LICK IT TILL IT'S GONE."

Shunsuke stood tall, twitching with pride as his claws raked slow lines into the concrete, his voice steady but manic. "GOOD MUTTS. GOOD PACK. RED AIN'T THERE YET. BUT HE'LL BREAK. HE'LL BEG."

Daichi slammed his fists into the muck repeatedly, barking between each impact. "FEED HIM! FEED HIM! WANNA HEAR HIM SLOP AND SUCK AND CHOKE!"

Riki's soul cracked. Inside his helmet, hot tears clouded his vision. His voice splintered in panic and desperation as he thrashed violently. His pleas echoed louder now, reverberating through the slime-slick air.

"YOU'RE STILL IN THERE! YOU HAVE TO BE! SHUNSUKE! HARUNA! YOUHEI! PLEASE! PLEASE FUCKING LISTEN TO ME! YOU'RE NOT DOGS! YOU'RE NOT ANIMALS! YOU'RE TURBORANGERS! WE FOUGHT FOR PEOPLE! WE SAVED LIVES! WE WEREN'T—WE'RE NOT THIS!"

He kicked. He twisted. The slime wouldn’t let go. His body convulsed as much from despair as it did from strain. Panic fogged his helmet’s interior until all he could see was the distorted, blurred reflections of his former friends circling like beasts.

Zukabarka chuckled wetly, drool dripping onto Riki's armor as he hissed, "CRY HARDER, HERO. CALL TO THEIR COURAGE. CALL TO THEIR SOULS. I ATE THOSE HOURS AGO."

"NO! NO, YOU DIDN'T! THEY'RE STILL IN THERE! I KNOW THEY ARE!" Riki screamed, his voice shrill. "DON'T YOU REMEMBER ME?! SHUNSUKE, YOU LED ME! HARUNA, YOU FOUGHT BY MY SIDE! YOUHEI, YOU—"

Haruna let out a sharp, giddy gasp. "HE'S MAKING SUCH PRETTY NOISES. IT MAKES ME WARM INSIDE. CAN WE MAKE HIM MOAN MORE? PLEASE?"

Youhei dragged himself toward Riki, tongue panting through the voice filters. "WANNA TASTE HIS LAST WORDS. THEY'LL MELT IN MY MOUTH. WANNA DRINK 'EM IN."

Shunsuke tilted his head, calmly stating, "HE’LL WHIMPER NEXT. THEN HE'LL WAG. THEN HE'LL NEVER SPEAK AGAIN."

Zukabarka let out a bubbling cackle as he jammed Riki’s face downward. "LET’S BEGIN HIS LOYALTY MEAL."

There was no time to react. No mercy. No final moment of air. Riki was slammed face-first into the trough.

But Zukabarka didn’t just force his head in—he grabbed a massive handful of slop and smeared it across the red helmet, coating the visor with rancid stew until the spirals underneath began to pulse against the polyglass. Then, with a single meaty hand, he crushed down on the front of the helmet. The visor shattered inward, slamming the filth directly into Riki’s mouth and eyes. The acidic muck burned inside, seeping between the edges of his helmet and suit collar. Slop filled the interior, drowning out his breath, his vision, his thoughts.

It wasn’t food. It was a grave of digestion, a stew pit filled with rotting meat, congealed grease, spiraling acidic fluids, and bile scraped from the folds of Zukabarka’s own gut. Steam hissed from the surface. Slime thick as blood clung to every edge. It smelled of decay and domination. Every molecule seemed designed to reduce willpower into sludge.

"LAP FOR LOYALTY! MUNCH FOR MEMORY LOSS!"

Riki howled in panic, the sound bubbling into gurgles as foul slop filled his mouth. His limbs kicked wildly. His knees slammed the ground. But the heat, the spiral fumes, the taste—it wormed its way into his nerves. His body betrayed him. He swallowed. He gagged. He swallowed again. The more he tried to resist, the more his tongue moved on its own.

"GGGRRHHHKKK—GGHH—SPIT—SPIT IT OUT!" Riki choked, but his lips moved on their own. His tongue curled. More slop flowed in. His spine twitched. His hips rocked. His back began to arch involuntarily.

Behind him, the hounds rejoiced.

Haruna shrieked, her voice a twisted laugh. "YES! YES! HE’S BEGGING WITH HIS SPINE! LICK IT UP! LICK FASTER!"

Youhei pounded the ground, howling. "FUCKING LISTEN TO THAT SLURP! HE'S LEARNING! THE DOG IN HIM'S COMING OUT!"

Daichi thrashed his claws against the floor. "SLURP LOUDER, MUTT! MAKE THE MONSTER MOAN!"

Shunsuke watched, still as a statue. "HE'S ALREADY HALFWAY GONE. HIS BODY KNOWS WHAT TO DO."

Zukabarka whispered, sliding close, fat belly pulsing with excitement. "GOOD BOY. TASTE YOUR OBEDIENCE. SWALLOW YOUR SHAME. WAG WHILE YOU WORK."

Riki wept. The taste burned. His shame boiled. But his tongue slithered forward again. He slurped. He chewed. He panted. And finally, his hips began to wag. His mind screamed. But his body obeyed.

The filth didn’t simply coat Riki’s tongue—it invaded like a sentient parasite, crawling between his teeth and burrowing into every crevice of his mouth. Slathering his gums with greasy mucus, it jammed rotten chunks of bile-soaked flesh down his throat. It wasn't just hot, it was scalding—a bubbling stew brewed in some ancient digestive nightmare that seared the roof of his mouth and hissed as it slid into his gullet. The first swallow sent shudders through his body, but it wasn’t revulsion that followed. It was unraveling.

This wasn’t food. It was an infection. A ritual. A gateway to something far worse. Each mouthful activated something old and predatory in his nervous system. Memories blinked out like stars swallowed by a black hole. His identity—his humanity—peeled away with every chew, every unconscious lap.

His thoughts burst like bubbles: his name, his team, the roar of a Zord, the fire of battle. Gone. Replaced by a low, pounding pulse synced to the bubbling slop he couldn’t stop consuming.

"NNGGHHHH—NO—GGRRAHH—I'M NOT A—DOG—I'M—I'M Riki!!" he screamed, voice distorted by stew.

But his body didn't care. His tongue darted out, dragging stew into his mouth like a starving animal. His jaw worked mindlessly, muscles moving in rhythmic betrayal. He chewed. He swallowed.

His spine curled downward. His knees slid deeper into the filth. His arms gave out, elbows splashing into the muck. He panted, breath steaming against the slurry-slick interior of his cracked helmet. His suit clung tighter, rubbery with grime, molding his form into a panting parody of a hero.

From above, laughter thundered like an avalanche.

"GOOD BOY!" Zukabarka bellowed, swatting his gelatinous gut with both hands. The ripple of fat sent stew flying in wet arcs. "LOOK AT YOU, RED! WAGGIN' THOSE FUCKING HIPS! YOU FEEL IT NOW, HUH? THAT HUNGER TO PLEASE! THAT NEED TO LICK!"

The monster lumbered forward, each stomp sloshing the muck around the chamber. Riki didn't lift his head—he couldn’t. A thick string of stew dripped from his visor as he twitched, drool now mixing with the bile. He tried to move, but his limbs quivered, no longer taking orders from his mind.

Behind him, chaos erupted.

Haruna was on her back, helmet scrubbing across the filth like a dog scent-marking territory, tailbone thrusting and twitching. Her gloved hands dragged through the muck as she moaned, crawling toward Riki. "FUCKING HELL, LISTEN TO HIM! HE'S LAPPING IT LIKE HE WAS BORN FOR IT! WANNA RUB UP AGAINST HIM SO BAD!!"

Youhei pounded his claws into the wall, cackling as he rolled in place, dragging his legs and hips across the filth like a creature in heat. "THAT SOUND! THAT FUCKING SLURP! HE'S BROKEN! BROKEN GOOD! FUCKING MAKE HIM OUR TOY!!"

Daichi spun in tight jerks, barking wildly, smearing his chest against the floor. He clawed at his own armor, dragging gloved fingers down his thighs and abdomen as if trying to claw out instinct. "JOIN US, Riki! FUCKING HOWL! HOWL WITH US, DAMN YOU!!"

“GGHHHAAHH—SHUNSUKE—HARUNA—YOUHEI—PLEASE—STOP THIS!!” Riki cried, voice choking through grit and stew. “YOU KNOW ME!! YOU’RE NOT ANIMALS!! REMEMBER!!”

Haruna crawled up behind him, thrusting her helmet next to his face, panting and barking between words. "DON'T CALL ME THAT! I'M A MUTT! I WANNA SNIFF YOU 'TIL I BLACK OUT! I WANNA TASTE YOUR SLIME!!"

Youhei dragged his face through the muck, groaning loudly. "STOP SAYING NAMES! YOU DON’T NEED A NAME! JUST A SCENT! JUST A FUCKING PLACE AT THE MASTER’S FEET!!"

Riki tried to rise, his fingers pressing into the floor, but his elbows dipped again, locking him back into the feeding stance. His back arched, involuntarily offering himself as another involuntary gulp sent tremors through his thighs.

Daichi slammed his helmet into Riki's shoulder, then rubbed it in slow circles. His breath came in huffs. "FUCKING PERFECT. YOU’RE HOT. YOU SMELL LIKE SLIME AND DEFEAT. YOU'RE ALMOST READY!!"

Shunsuke dropped to all fours beside them, pressing his helmet to Riki’s cheek, groaning as if reunited with a mate. “I was like you. I screamed. I thought I could hold on. But when the stew hits your soul... it washes everything else away. You’re almost beautiful. Just break. Break for us.”

Riki sobbed, thick globs of stew bubbling up past his lips. His mouth twitched into a barking shape. “Please… please stop…”

Zukabarka reared back, belly wobbling, before collapsing forward. His gut landed squarely on Riki’s upper back, grinding him face-first into the trough. Stew splashed out around his helmet as his body convulsed.

“EAT, DOG!! LAP FOR MASTER!! LICK FOR FREEDOM!!” Zukabarka roared, pressing harder. “SHOW THEM HOW GOOD IT FEELS TO BE EMPTY!!”

“STO—MMPH—GGGGGGLLHHHKKK—!!” Riki screamed, but the stew forced its way in. His hips bucked. His body shivered. Something clicked in his throat.

And then he barked.

The sound echoed like a gunshot. Not a bark of resistance. It was rhythmic. Loud. Perfect.

Haruna shrieked and dove forward, rubbing her chest against his back. “FUCKING YES!! FUCKING YES!! OUR RED IS DONE!!”

“FUCK YEAH!! BARK AGAIN!!” Youhei howled, crawling across Riki’s legs, sniffing and groaning.

“HE’S OURS!! HE’S OURS!!” Daichi sobbed, now circling them and licking the air through his helmet.

Riki’s panting increased. The stew dripped from his chin. His knees inched back. He began to sway, hips shaking involuntarily.

Zukabarka grinned so wide his jaw cracked. “LOOK AT THAT! HE WANTS TO WAG!! GIVE HIM A FUCKING TREAT!”

Riki gagged, barked again, and then—without knowing why—his mouth opened.

He begged.

Shunsuke wept openly, pulling Riki’s torso up with shaking arms, then rubbing their helmets together with affection. “He’s ours now. He’s not the last. He’s the perfect middle. The perfect bitch.”

Riki barked. Loud. Loud again. His mouth foamed. His body pulsed. His limbs jerked.

“MASTER!! MASTER!!” Youhei howled, sniffing up Riki’s side.

Haruna humped the tiles behind him, howling obscenely. “SLOP HIM!! GIVE HIM THE REST!! I WANNA SHARE IT!!”

And Zukabarka raised his hand.

“WHO WANTS TO SEE RED DO TRICKS?”

“ME!!”

“YES!!”

“ROLL HIM!! FLIP HIM!! FUCKING MAKE HIM BEG!!”

Riki drooled, lips parting as his helmet twitched, his body responding before he even heard the commands.

Still barking, feeding, breaking, wagging.

And there was no one left inside that stew-slicked suit but the obedient, panting mutt they had created.

***

Riki didn’t rise from the trough. He collapsed beside it with the graceless thud of broken hope, soaked to the core, slime bubbling across his chest like a grotesque second heartbeat. The stew had carved its legacy into him, a bubbling stream of tainted nourishment slithering through his bloodstream, infiltrating every breath, every twitch. His shattered visor clung to his face in shards, like broken teeth jammed into a screaming mouth. The inner padding of the helmet was soaked in bile and foam, smeared across his cheeks and leaking from every seam. Each breath was a wet, hacking gasp, wheezing through meat chunks and acid slicks, lungs rasping with spoiled heat.

His once-vibrant red fairy energy-powered Turboranger suit, a proud badge of identity and power, now spasmed with involuntary pulses. The synthetic fibers hugged his muscles like an eager leech, the chest plate twitching like it had learned to breathe without permission. Slime wept down his limbs. The sensors embedded in his suit sparked weakly, trying to respond to his vitals, but all that flickered through them was confusion and submission. His arms, bent at unnatural angles, twitched feebly as though some ghost of defiance lingered, but they moved with no strength. They were gestures of a man who didn’t know what to believe anymore.

He should have screamed. He should have roared. But instead he panted. Shallow. Syncopated. Hollow. Like a mutt who had learned the rhythm of obedience from the master’s rot. His breath was no longer his own—it belonged to the rhythm of the stew, to the squelching slime below him, to the whispers in his mind that told him this was all he had ever been. His thighs trembled. His back arched slightly, involuntarily.

Zukabarka hovered like a bloated prophecy fulfilled, shadowing over him with a smugness born from countless devoured wills. Each footstep was a quake of dripping lard and corrupted glee, his belly slapping the floor with obscene percussion. His bloated silhouette swayed with every breath, jowls quivering, flesh glistening with stew-slime. The air stank with his breath—fermented meat, forgotten oils, wet mold—each inhale sounding like a tub draining in reverse. He watched Riki squirm with hunger in his eyes, slurping a thread of slime from his lips with a prolonged hiss.

The corrupted Turborangers moved as one. Their circle had tightened into a ritual pattern, footsteps no longer random but synchronized in beast-like ceremony. Helmets jerked with anticipation. Claws scraped concrete in choreographed drag. Their groans rose in a perverse hymn of mindless unity. These were not teammates watching over a fallen friend. These were predators awaiting the birth of their packmate. Their voices weren’t human anymore, broken into fragments of snarled syllables and whining huffs. They surrounded Riki not to save him, but to greet him.

Then came the gift. Zukabarka plunged his bloated hand into the trench beneath his gut, the folds parting with a nauseating squelch. The sound alone was enough to make the tile tremble. He pulled forth the final piece of damnation from that sickening fold—a dog-bone shaped parasite, rubbery, translucent, glistening with pre-slime. It squeaked with every twitch, a high-pitched mockery of childhood twisted into an instrument of oblivion. Spiral runes glowed across its surface, each glyph pulsing in rhythm with Riki’s heartbeat, as if waiting for the exact moment to imprint.

"TIME TO FINISH THE FEEDING, MUTT," Zukabarka growled, bile trailing from his mouth corners. "YOU'VE EARNED YOUR COLLAR."

Riki twitched, reflexive. He tried to move. His body jostled like a broken puppet. His arms jerked up, then dropped limply. His legs folded beneath him. His voice gurgled through slime and shame. "NNGGHHHAAFFFHHH—N-N-NO—WWHHRRRRGGGKKK—PLEASE—DON'T!"

It was too late. The parasite was shoved into his face. It didn’t just cling—it pulsed, compressing against his mouth with a squealing hiss. He gagged violently as the toy's slippery tendrils forced their way through the cracks in his helmet, coiling beneath his cheeks, anchoring into the exposed ports near his jaw. The bone-like toy squealed and writhed, emitting rhythmic chirps like a squeaky chew toy, each burst matching the panicked stuttering of Riki's breathing. It was no longer a mask—it was a command. He convulsed, slamming his helmet against the floor, screaming through clenched teeth.

"HHHRGGHH—IT’S—G-G-GOIN' INSIDE—AAAGHH—NNGH—FUCK—CAN’T—CAN’T—SHUT—MY—MOUTH!!"

Haruna panted nearby, eyes wide. "LOOK! IT'S MELTING INTO HIM! HE’S SUCKING IT IN!"

Youhei barked, growling as he clawed at his own jaw. "I REMEMBER THAT FUCKIN’ TASTE! IT’S BURNING HIM—FUCKING BEAUTIFUL!!"

Daichi growled low, circling. "LISTEN TO HIS CHOKES—THAT’S THE SOUND OF THE PACK BEING MADE!!"

Shunsuke howled, fists curled. "IT'S CRACKING HIM! THE RED IS BREAKING!!"

Riki screamed louder, now half barking, half pleading. "GGAAHH—S-STOP IT—MY FACE!! FUCK—FUCK MY JAW—MY BRAIN’S—NNGGK—BURNING—CAN’T—CAN’T THINK!!"

The parasite pressed harder. Runes lit up like searing brands across his cheeks. The foam from his mouth turned pink. His eyes twitched wildly, iris shrinking as spirals imprinted across his vision. He spasmed, helmet thudding again.

"GRRAAGH—HELP—HELP M-M-MY TONGUE—WON'T STOP—IT’S MOVING ON ITS OWN—R-R-RUFF—RRUFF—R-R-RUFFF!!"

His voice deteriorated into squeaks and growls. The parasite squealed louder, then compressed one last time, sealing around his jaw like a clamp.

"YES! LOOK AT HIM GO! LOOK AT THAT GOOD GOOD FUCKING MUTT!!" Zukabarka moaned, arms wide.

Riki's voice poured out like a broken pipe. "RUFF!! RUFF!! I CAN'T—I'M—RRRGHHH—MY MOUTH! MY MOUTH!! IT'S—IT'S FUCKING MINE!! RUFF!!"

The others barked louder in response. Youhei roared. "FUCK YEAH IT’S YOURS! NOW BARK IT FOR US!!"

Haruna screamed. "I WANNA HEAR HIM WHIMPER AGAIN!! MAKE HIM WHIMPER!!"

Shunsuke chanted. "HEAT. HEAT. HEAT! RED'S READY TO FUCKING POP!!"

The room surged in panting and howling as the parasite flashed bright one final time and pulsed inward, snapping tight across Riki's face and sealing. His scream died into one final, wretched bark.

"RRRUUUFF!! RUUHHHH!! HHAAAHH!! MM-M-M-MASTER!! HHHUUUURRRFFF!!"

***

"GGGRRAHHH!! M-MY NOSE!! SNIFF HIM!! FUCKING SNIFF HIM!!" Youhei barked back, circling.

Riki thrashed and barked louder, slobbering, head twisting side to side. "RRRR-WHY HOT!! WHY HOT!! I-I—I'M BARKING!! RUFF!! RUFF!! SNIFF MEEEE!!"

"YES!! YES!! I WANNA FEEL HIS ARMOR PRESS MINE!!" Haruna howled.

"HIS BREATH IS PERFECT! LISTEN TO HIM WHIMPER!!" Daichi yelled, dragging his claws across the floor.

Riki slammed a gauntlet into the slime. "RUFF!! I-I DON'T—I WANT—I CAN’T—STOP—BARK!!"

Shunsuke moaned with his helmet cocked against Riki’s shoulder. "YOU'RE ALMOST GONE. BARK FOR US. BARK FOR ME. FUCKING GIVE IN!!"

Zukabarka’s eyes gleamed. "LOOK AT THIS PACK! YOU'RE MY MASTERPIECES! ROLL FOR ME!!"

Riki shook, his voice barking rapid-fire, no longer words. "RUFF!! RUFF!! RUFF!! ME!! M-M-MY NAME!! GONE!! BARK!! SLURP!! PACK!! HEAT!! HEAT!!"

They rose.

They howled.

They chanted.

They screamed.

Haruna's bark bled into her declaration. "TURBO—PINK—MUTT—RUFF—MY TAIL'S WAGGING, MASTER!!"

Youhei roared. "TURBO—BLUE—WAGGER—FUCKIN' FERAL!!"

Daichi scraped his claws together. "TURBO—BLACK—I'M A DOG! SAY IT! MAKE ME BARK!!"

Shunsuke slammed into the wall. "TURBO—YELLOW—I WANNA HUMP THE WHOLE FLOOR!!"

Riki, on all fours, sobbed and barked at once. "TURBO—RED—DOG—HUFF—H-H-HEAT—G-G-GONNA BURST!!"

Together:

"WE—ARE—THE—TURBO—MUTT—PACK!!"

***

They were no longer warriors. They were no longer human.

The chamber pulsed with the stench of rot and musk, thick with a humidity that clung like wet breath. Shadows writhed across the walls in twitching, grotesque mimicry of movement, echoing the convulsions of the five once-proud Turborangers. The space that had once been a battlefield now resembled a lair—a foul cathedral of obedience, where instincts drowned intellect, and identity eroded beneath ritual.

Zukabarka loomed over it all, perched on his mountainous belly like a monstrous idol carved from slop and gluttony. His gurgling laughter echoed across the muck-slicked tiles as he observed his work: the whimpering, writhing, panting creatures below.

Turbo Dog Red still twitched, the rubber parasite clamped tight around his jaw, muffling fragmented screams and twisted barks that burst from deep within him. “R-RRRUFFF!! MMH-N-NAME—M-MY N-N-NAME!! R-R-RED—WAS—RRAGHH!! BARK!!” His voice split into spasms of noise, panic clawing at his throat, limbs trembling beneath the spiraled command of heat and hunger. He jerked in place, helmet smearing across the floor as he barked again, louder, tailbone twitching beneath his suit.

The nameless Turbo Dog Pink pounced beside him, drool trailing from her helmet vents. “R-RUFF!! P-P-PINK!! I-I'M PINK!! F-FEELS—HHAAAH—FUCKING—NNNGRHH—HOT—RRUFF!!” Her claws scraped against Red’s thigh, snout grinding against him, her breath short and feral.

“YELLOW!! I'M—Y-Y-YELLOW!! MM-MUTT!! RUFF!! I-I—I SMELL YOU!!” Dog Yellow howled, cracking into laughter before barking, his body arched with energy as he circled the others, sniffing erratically.

“BL-BLACK!! G-GOTTA—H-H-HUMP!! WANNA—SNIFF—RRRUFFF!! FUCK—FUCK!!” Dog Black rasped, voice descending into feral moans, rubbing himself against Turbo Dog Pink’s side.

Dog Pink, helmet twitching violently, screamed. “PINK—PINK—AAAGHH—MY—MY SUIT—HHHOT!! R-RRUFF!! F-FEELS—FEELS—HHHAAA—G-G-GOOD!!”

They snarled and growled, encircling each other, clawing the tiles, rubbing their helmets across steaming armor. Each spoke their color like it was their only anchor left, a final piece of self repurposed by madness. No one said “ours.” They weren’t capable of possession—they were instinct.

Red kept barking, trying to crawl back. “N-N-NAME!! W-WAS—SOMEONE—N-NO—RRUFF!! NNGHH—WH-YY—FEELS—HHHOT!!”

Yellow snapped her teeth inches from his visor. “Y-YELLOW SMELLS YOU!! SMELLS—Y-YOU!! CAN’T STOP—WANNA—BARK!!”

“BLUE WANTS!” Dog Blue yipped, panting. “BLUE WANTS YELLOW! BLUE WANTS RED! BLUE WANTS EVERYONE!!”

“WH-WHITE FEELS IT!! F-F-FUCKING—INSIDE—SUIT’S—C-CRAWLING!!” Turbo Dog Black thrashed, clawing at his own chest.

“BLACK—HUNGRY—FOR HEAT!!” Black roared, pressing his helmet to Red’s spine, snorting hard. “H-H-HELMMMET—WET!!”

Zukabarka bellowed above them, arms spread wide. “YES!! SCREAM, YOU FUCKING MUTTS!! BARK, BEG, ROLL!! YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE—FIVE GOOD, LOYAL, FUCKING DOGS!! I DIDN'T BREAK YOU—I REVEALED YOU!!”

The five heroes moaned louder. Their colors were spoken again and again in broken tones, barked like names, groaned like mating cries.

“R-RED!! R-RED—BARKS—RRRUFF!! I-I—I'VE GOTTA—RUB!! CAN'T—F-FUCKING—HOLD—IT!!”

“YELLOW!! Y-YELLOW—SNIFF—RRAGHH—DOG—D-DOGG!!”

“BLUUUEEE!! A-AHH—P-PAWS—H-HHHHH—BLUE’S HERE!!”

“WHITE—M-MY BONES!! H-HUMP!! H-HHUMP SOMETHING!!”

“BLACK!! W-W-WRITHING—HHHOT—I'M—BLACK—I'M—BARKING!!”

The kennel lair had grown heavier, the air itself reeking like rotted breath. It didn’t just hang—it dragged, pressing down like soaked rubber against their lungs. Spirals pulsed across the walls in slow, wet loops, leaving oily afterimages in the eyes of the already mind-warped beasts who once bore the titles of heroes. The five corrupted Turborangers—broken, drooling, shaking—had stopped trying to rise. They crawled in spirals. They circled one another, still sniffing, still rubbing helmets across suits slick with musk and rot, unable to stop themselves from seeking heat, contact, affirmation from their packmates.

“HRRGHH—YELLOW—YOU—YOU—SMELL SO FUCKING THICK!!” Turbo Dog Red panted, dragging his faceplate along her back.

“NNNGHH—STOP—I—I MEAN DON’T—YOURS TOO!! I—I WANNA BITE THROUGH IT!!” Turbo Dog Pink whimpered, collapsing against him.

“FFFFFUCK—CAN’T—SNIFFING TOO DEEP!! I’M IN YOUR SUIT!!” Turbo Dog Blue barked, crawling beneath them, visor fogged, nose pressed to Red’s thighs.

“RRRUFF—RRRUFFFF—I’M NOT TALKING—I’M JUST SMELLING!!” Turbo Dog Black cried, spinning in tight circles like a dog chasing its spiral-branded tail.

Zukabarka stood above them, bloated body trembling with glee. He raised both arms and slapped his gut, which rippled and squelched with slime. His folds opened slightly, revealing rows of glyphs that writhed with hunger.

“THE RITUAL’S NOT DONE!” he roared. “THE SPIRALS TOOK YOUR NAMES, BUT I WANT WHAT’S LEFT—YOUR SOULS!! GIVE THEM TO ME!!”

The five dogs shrieked in tandem, bodies buckling as if on command. Their limbs twitched in place, their suits stretching taut as the spiral glyphs etched into their visors began to blink faster, faster, faster.

Turbo Dog Red was the first to jolt upright on all fours, spine arched, mouth open in a gurgling cry.

“GGGAAAGHH—F-FUCK—I’M GOING—I’M GONE—RUFF—Turbo Dog RED!! I’M FRONT BITCH—MY BARK IS A WEAPON!! I’LL LICK THE GROUND YOU SPIT ON, MASTER—I WANNA WAG WHILE YOU SUCK OUT WHAT’S LEFT!!”

Turbo Dog Pink howled, body shaking as she rolled to press her helmet against his side.

“Turbo Dog Pink—I’M WET!! I’M SLIMY!! I’M YOUR FLOOR TO SNIFF!! RUFF—RRRGHH—BITE MY MEMORY OFF!! TAKE IT!! TAKE IT THROUGH MY VISOR!!”

Turbo Dog Blue screamed louder, his voice cracking, arms wrapped around both their torsos.

“BLUE—DOG BLUE!! T-T-TURBO—FUCKING—LOST—FEED ME TRICKS—SCOOP OUT MY MIND!! I’M DONE!! I’M LEAKING EVERYWHERE!!”

Turbo Dog Black slammed his head against the floor, spiral light flashing in time with each impact.

“WHITE DOG!! I’M WHITE—WHITE AND WHINING—FEED ME DIRT—I’LL CALL IT DINNER!! GGGGRHHHH—RUB THE PACK INTO MY SPINE!!”

Turbo Dog Yellow roared above them, his voice distorted through the spiral-mass locked to his helmet.

“BLACK DOG—PACK LEADER!! MY PACK’S FUCKED, FILTHY, FOAMING!! I’LL SNIFF THEM RAW!! MY SUIT ISN’T ARMOR—IT’S OBEDIENCE!! I WANNA SLIDE THROUGH THEM!! RUFF!! RUFF!!”

They screamed louder now, voices overlapping, barking louder, calling names that no longer held meaning.

“Turbo Dog!!”

“RUFF!!”

“I’M READY!!”

“SNIFF ME!!”

 “NO THOUGHTS!!”

“RUB ME!!”

“FUCKING SUCK IT OUT!!”

Zukabarka threw his head back and laughed, eyes rolling. “YOU’RE NOT COLORS! YOU’RE FUCKING HEAT!! YOU’RE FLESH!! YOU’RE FILTH!! AND I—AM—PROUD!!”

They all collapsed into a pile, bodies twitching, barking echoing louder and louder. No thoughts left. No names. Just colors. Just instincts. Just spirals of filth. Their roll calls were forgotten, replaced by snarled heat, sweat, and submission declarations.

And Zukabarka, watching, bellowed: “THIS IS THE NEW CALL—NOT HEROES—BUT BEASTBORN!!”