Brushstrokes of Doom: Rangers on the Eldritch Canvas (Patreon)

Dive into the unknown as Kimberly, Billy, and Zac confront an eldritch evil painting. The seemingly harmless canvas harbors a malevolent secret, ensnaring our heroes in a web of doom. Frenzied screams echo, leaving a chilling question hanging in the air: Can they escape the clutches of the unseen menace, or is their fate to be painted over for eternity?

Special thanks to my loyal and royal patron friends:

Ken K

Mittons (Boonnit)

Cole Calhoun

TAKASHI FUJIMORI

Ty smith

Obviousagent

torakitchi

Bob

Statr

Violet Fentenstine

snb

Robert Terwillger

Matt Thomas

Daniel K

Mike020578

Take your brushes!

The Command Chamber buzzed with activity as the Rangers prepared for their next mission. Kimberly, the Pink Ranger, entered the room, carefully cradling a large, mysterious painting in her hands. She was surprised to find Alpha-5 there and, feeling a bit self-conscious, stuttered out an awkward explanation.

"Oh, uh, hey Alpha! It's just, you know, a little something for my room. Nothing special," Kimberly mumbled, trying to downplay the significance of the painting. She shot a quick glance at Zordon's floating head, hoping to avoid any further questioning.

Alpha-5 tilted his robotic head, his blinking lights indicating curiosity. "A new decoration, eh? That's adorable, Kimberly! Always good to spruce up your living space."

Zordon's disembodied voice resonated in the chamber. "Indeed, Kimberly. Personalizing your surroundings can have a positive impact on morale. Carry on."

Relieved, Kimberly left for her private compartment at the back of the hallway. As she closed the door behind her, the room revealed a more intimate side of the Pink Ranger. Gymnastics posters adorned the walls, and a neatly hung leotard showcased her athletic prowess.

With a sense of excitement, Kimberly carefully hung the painting on an empty wall. The murky, swirling abstract pattern seemed to captivate her, drawing her into a trance-like state. She couldn't tear her gaze away as the painting began to morph and shift.

In awe, she muttered to herself, "This is so mesmerizing, like... alive."

As the brown, repulsive patterns on the canvas churned, random bulges emerged. Kimberly, now fixated, reached for her Pterodactyl Power Coin and held it toward the painting, unknowingly unlocking a horrifying sequence of events.

Detecting the Morphing Grid power within the coin, a massive arm with thick, clawed fingers emerged from the painting. It snaked out, seizing the Power Coin, and then, to Kimberly's horror, grabbed her face. She gasped and struggled, but the invisible force held her in its grasp.

"Help! Someone, please!" Kimberly cried out, but her voice was stifled by the invisible force. She clutched the arm, desperation etched across her face, her eyes pleading for salvation.

Meanwhile, back in the Command Chamber, Alpha-5 turned to Zordon. "Did you see that painting Kimberly brought in? It's kinda cute, right?"

Zordon, his floating head showing a faint glow of amusement, replied, "Yes, Alpha. Kimberly's personal touches are endearing. They need to maintain a connection to their humanity."

Unaware of the terrifying ordeal unfolding in Kimberly's locked room, they continued their casual conversation about the Rangers' individual quirks and preferences, blissfully ignorant of the nightmare that had taken hold within the Pink Ranger's private space.

The grotesque scene unfolded in Kimberly's private room, the atmosphere tainted by an otherworldly horror. Head first, the powerless Pink Ranger was dragged toward the painting, her body contorting and writhing in agonizing torment. Her muffled screams pierced the air, pleading for help, the panic in her voice palpable.

"No, please! Somebody help me! What's happening? I can't breathe!" Kimberly's disjointed and panicked pleas filled the room as her limbs thrashed in desperate attempts to resist the relentless pull.

The room bore witness to a nightmarish spectacle, the once vibrant and decorated space now transformed into a chamber of despair. Kimberly's struggles intensified, her body worming and squirming as she was slowly and inexorably sucked into the canvas. Her legs, kicking and flailing, were the last to succumb, dangling helplessly as the painting consumed her.

As Kimberly was being absorbed, her horrified exclamations echoed through the room. "This can't be real! Somebody, please! I don't want to go! I'm begging you!" Her voice grew more desperate, the tone reflecting the terror of the unknown.

Throughout the hellish predicament, Kimberly despairingly trying to reach her tumbling Power Buckle. As half of her body was already inside the smothering tight cocooning tunnel of psychedelic colors, she managed to grab the item. The gymnast didn’t waste time to shout her heroic roll call. “Pterodactyl!”

Yet, her effort was in vain. Her transformation occurred when she was already consumed by the painting canvas. Her access to the real world had slammed shut behind her. The wicked framed fabric churned with its freshest prisoner. Then, the barely-visible figure of the Pink Pterodactyl Ranger bulged out in misery. The transformed Kimberly frantically tried to pound and rip her way out of the cursed canvas. Her muffled screams could only be heard from a short distance.

The muffled cries and pleading screams faded gradually as the trapped Pink Ranger lost her strength to resist. Her deadened pleas echoed in the room like a haunting melody. Kimberly's once-vibrant presence was erased, leaving only an empty room behind. The silence that followed was suffocating, a stark contrast to the chaos that had transpired only moments ago.

Soon later, Kimberly's world spun in disarray as she was violently expelled from the interdimensional horror within the painting. Her body tumbled through the air, crashing against the wall with a sickening thud. As she slowly rose, a malevolent smirk crept across her face, replacing the terror that had before etched her features.

Clutching the Power Coin in her hand, Kimberly peered down at it, her eyes reflecting a sinister gleam. The sanctuary room now resonated with an eerie stillness, disturbed only by the echoes of the tortured soul still trapped within the cursed canvas.

A slow, mocking laughter bubbled up from Kimberly's lips, but it wasn't the laughter of the Pink Ranger they knew. It was an evil, soulless cackle that reverberated through the empty room. The puppeteer had taken control, and the real Kimberly's consciousness remained imprisoned within the dark abyss of the painting.

"You were always such an idiot, weren't you?" Evil Kimberly sneered, her voice dripping with malice. "Falling into my trap like the helpless meat you are. Now your soul is mine to mold."

Real Kimberly, still desperately bulging out of the painting canvas, could only emit muffled pleas that were absorbed by the thick fabric of interdimensional horror. Her eyes, wide with terror, stared out from the depths of the abyss, unable to communicate the horrors she had witnessed.

"Please, no! Stop! Let me go!" Real Kimberly's voice, now reaching a frenzied pitch, intermingled with guttural screams as the painting continued to consume her. Her hands stretched out in vain, fingers clawing at the empty air as if seeking an escape that eluded her.

Evil Kimberly circled the room, relishing in the newfound power. She fondled her skintight heroic suit. The erect raisins of her breasts enticed her as she fingered them. Her moans echoed in the room of privacy. "Thank you, dear Kimber-slut. Thanks for being a moron, I have a vessel to walk this world once more. I'll make sure you're not so alone, after all."

The sinister puppeteer continued to gloat, taunting the trapped soul. "You see, your pink tits are just the beginning. I'm going to lure every spandex Ranger into this painting, and your little play friends will join you in the endless torment. It's going to be so much fun."

Evil Kimberly strutted around her private room, now adorned with the relics of the Pink Ranger's former innocence. The once-familiar Pink Ranger costume now clung to her form, concealing the malevolent energy that crackled beneath. Her warm eyes now gleamed with a calculating wickedness as she pondered her next move.

"Okay, who's gonna be my next victim?" she mused, tapping her claws against the Pink Ranger helmet. A sly smirk curled on her lips as she delved into her twisted teenage psyche to plot her devilish schemes.

"Zac, the Black Mastodon," she pondered, a wicked grin playing on her face. "He's strong, loyal, the whole package. But loyalty can be such a drag, right? I bet I can use that against him. Make him question everything he thought he knew about friendship."

Her thoughts then shifted to Trini, the Yellow Ranger, with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "Miss Kung Fu Extraordinaire. She's sharp, and I love a good challenge. Gotta play the mind games, ya know? Feed her fears, make her doubt herself. Classic villain stuff."

A devilish chuckle escaped her as she considered Billy, the Blue Ranger. "Billy-boy, the brains of the operation. Smart, but sometimes too smart for his own good. I'll dangle some irresistible puzzle in front of him. Watch him squirm as he falls into my trap."

Her gaze turned to Jason, the Red Ranger, with a devious glint. "The fearless leader. Strong, responsible, the poster boy for heroism. Maybe he's a bit too predictable? I'll play on his protective instincts. Make him think he can save everyone, only to realize he's the one who needs saving."

The room seemed to resonate with a dark energy, amplifying her wicked intentions. Evil Kimberly reveled in the thought of each Ranger falling into her trap, imagining the unique challenge each one presented.

"I gotta be slick," she whispered to herself, her voice dripping with teen brat-style malice. "Each Ranger's got their quirks, their weak spots. Time to exploit those and watch 'em tumble into my little art project."

Her eyes flicked to the abstract painting on the wall, now a gateway to her interdimensional playground. "Once they're in, there's no way out. Welcome to my canvas of despair, suckers."

A wicked laugh bubbled up from her throat as she envisioned the Rangers, one by one, falling into her trap. The room echoed with the sound of her malevolent amusement. "This is gonna be sooo much fun," she hissed, savoring the power she now wielded.

Evil Kimberly, reveling in her newfound malevolence, found a twisted pleasure in concocting devious plans to ensnare each of her former comrades. Her eyes sparkled with wicked glee as she envisioned the creative ways she could lure the Rangers into surrendering themselves to the evil painting.

"Zac, my big, delicious, loyal Black Ranger," she purred, her voice laced with a sinister delight. "Imagine him, tempted by a false cry for help from a friend. A trap set so perfectly, he won't even see it coming. Oh, the look on his face when he realizes he fell right into my little web. Classic."

The thought of Trini, the Yellow Ranger, excited her even more. "Picture this – a mysterious message revealing some dark secret about her past. Something she can't resist digging into. The thrill of uncovering the truth will be her downfall. She'll willingly walk right into my trap, and I'll have her right where I want her."

As she continued to scheme, a devilish grin played on her lips. "Billy, the brainiac," she giggled with wicked amusement. "I'll create a puzzle so irresistible, he won't be able to resist solving it. His curiosity will be his undoing. Oh, and the satisfaction of watching that genius mind of his unravel – delicious."

Her eyes gleamed with malicious anticipation as she pondered Jason, the Red Ranger. "Mr. Hero Complex himself. I'll stage a scenario where he thinks he can save the day, protect everyone. Little does he know, he'll be walking right into my trap. The mighty Red Ranger, brought to his knees by his own sense of duty. It's poetic, really."

Each scenario played out in her mind like a dark fantasy, and the evil Kimberly couldn't help but squeal with delight at the sheer wickedness of her imaginings.

"And, of course, there's me," she mused, her tone dripping with sinister allure. "I'll use my own image – my past self – against them. Make them question everything they thought they knew. Their confusion and doubt will be the sweetest victory of all."

The room seemed to pulse with the twisted energy of her malevolent fantasies. Evil Kimberly, now thoroughly aroused by the sheer delight of her wicked plans, couldn't contain her excitement. She reveled in the thought of the Rangers falling one by one, each succumbing to her carefully crafted schemes.

With a final glance at the painting, evil Kimberly plotted her next move, her bratty demeanor adding an extra layer of menace to her schemes. The Command Chamber, still blissfully unaware of the impending doom, continued its usual buzz of activity. Little did the remaining Rangers know that their former friend had become their most formidable adversary, cooking up a plot to turn their heroic legacy into a twisted nightmare. The evil Pink Ranger, reveling in her newfound power, eagerly anticipated the unfolding chaos of her teen brat-styled wicked schemes.

***

Billy Cranston, the brilliant Blue Ranger, was deeply engrossed in his work within an Angel Grove campus lab. Surrounded by his inventions and gadgets, he tinkered away, completely unaware of the malevolent force about to disrupt his scientific endeavors.

Evil Kimberly, disguised as her former self, sauntered into the lab, the evil painting cradled in her hands. "Billy!" she exclaimed with feigned excitement. "I found this mysterious painting, and I thought, who better than you to analyze its intricate patterns? It's like a puzzle waiting to be solved!"

Billy, always eager for a scientific challenge, welcomed the opportunity. "Sure thing, Kimberly. Let me just grab my equipment," he replied, moving toward his array of devices. Little did he know that this seemingly innocent encounter would soon spiral into a nightmarish trap.

As Billy prepared to analyze the painting, a sudden power surge erupted, causing his equipment to explode in a shower of sparks. Startled, he stepped back, eying the now-damaged gadgets with dismay. Evil Kimberly, maintaining her facade, suggested an alternative.

"Well, shoot. That didn't go as planned," she said with a sympathetic tone. "But hey, why not try using your Power Buckle and Triceratops Power Coin? Maybe a more direct connection will reveal its secrets."

Billy, trusting his friend's advice, unclipped his Power Buckle and held it closer to the enigmatic painting. As he did, a dark, delightfully wicked grin spread across evil Kimberly's face. In an instant, a sinister paint-covered hand shot out from the depths of the painting, snatching the Blue Ranger Power Buckle.

Billy's eyes widened in shock, and he instinctively reached out, attempting to grab hold of the elusive buckle. "Kimberly! Help!" he pleaded, but evil Kimberly merely watched, her grin widening with malevolent delight.

Realization struck Billy like a bolt of lightning. "This is a trap!" he exclaimed, his panic escalating. Ignoring his cries for help, evil Kimberly reveled in the unfolding chaos.

Desperate to escape, Billy resorted to transforming into the Blue Triceratops Ranger. With a heroic roll call, the transformation succeeded, but horror struck as the vibrant blue of his suit morphed into the swirling abstract pattern of the painting.

"The colors... what's happening?" Billy gasped, his voice laden with shock and confusion. The once-familiar hue of his Ranger suit had been corrupted into a grotesque swirl of abstract patterns.

As if the visual assault wasn't enough, an overwhelming, utterly vile fecal odor emanated from within the suit. It was a stench so potent, so nauseating, that Billy couldn't comprehend its origin. He clutched his helmet in utter agony as the smell overwhelmed his senses, disorienting his genius mind.

"No, no, this can't be real! What have you done?" Billy cried out, his voice muffled by the helmet that now trapped him in a nightmarish fusion of stench and color corruption. The twisted aroma invaded every inch of his consciousness, making it impossible for him to think straight.

In a desperate attempt to regain control, Billy reached for his Tricera Lance, intending to summon the weapon that had been his trusted ally in countless battles. However, the stench that permeated his suit clouded his senses, and his usually precise movements faltered.

The Tricera Lance clanked and dropped on the lab floor, just out of Billy's reach. Panic set in as he realized his inability to retrieve the weapon that could have provided a shred of defense against the malevolent force pulling him toward the evil painting.

Billy's mind raced, his thoughts clouded by the overwhelming stench and the disorienting colors that surrounded him. "I can't think... the smell..." he muttered to himself, the torment evident in his voice.

As the sinister paint-covered arm returned, reaching out to grab the Blue Ranger's helmet, Billy's muffled screams echoed in the lab. The evil force slowly and agonizingly dragged him helmet-first toward the malevolent painting.

His boots stomped desperately on the lab floor, arms reaching out in vain for anything that could provide leverage against the relentless pull. The once-confident genius found himself helpless, terrified, and consumed by the malevolent force intent on devouring him.

Billy's screams intensified, echoing through the lab, while evil Kimberly reveled in her triumph. "Oh, Billy-boy! Looks like your little retard brain couldn't save you this time. How does it feel to be trapped by your idiocy?" she mocked, her tone obnoxious and triumphant.

As the vile stench continued to permeate his suit, Billy found himself at the mercy of a force beyond his comprehension. The nauseating odor had transformed from a mere discomfort to an overwhelming assault on his senses, leaving him disoriented and struggling to think clearly. Panic set in as the evil paint-covered hand reached out again, intent on claiming the Blue Ranger for the malevolent painting.

"N-no... this... this smell... I can't think," Billy stuttered, his usually sharp mind reduced to a foggy haze by the overpowering stench. The Triceratops Ranger now felt utterly small and pathetic, unable to formulate a solution to this nightmarish plot against him.

As the sinister hand closed in, the stench intensified, assaulting Billy's every breath. He attempted to summon his Tricera Lance but the clouded fumes within his helmet hindered his focus. The weapon remained out of reach, a cruel reminder of his diminishing control over the situation.

The evil paint hand, now coated with the corrupted colors of the malevolent painting, touched Billy's helmet. At that moment, an ominous transformation began, starting from the helmet and spreading outward like a skintight cocoon of doom.

Billy's struggles became futile as the evil force enveloped him. The swirling abstract patterns etched themselves onto his spandex-clad heroic body, merging with the corrupted hues of the painting. He felt a profound sense of powerlessness as the malevolent cocoon tightened its grip, rendering him helpless against the impending doom.

"K-Kimberly, pl-please... I-I can't..." Billy's desperate pleas were cut short as the cocoon closed in, sealing him within its wicked embrace. The genius Blue Ranger now found himself trapped in an evil transformation, his body succumbing to the malevolent force that had ensnared him.

The malevolent hand continued its relentless pull, dragging Billy further into the depths of the painting. His struggles became feeble, and his attempts to resist the evil force were reduced to stuttering and incoherent pleas. The evil skintight cocoon clung to him like a second skin, each inch of his body now bearing the cursed mark of the malevolent painting.

"I'm useless... pathetic!" Billy's frenzied, panicking shouts reverberated through the lab, the words escaping in fragmented utterances as the stifling odor and the cocoon tightened their grip. His usually sharp mind, a source of pride and capability, now betrayed him in the face of this insidious evil.

As the malevolent hand closed in, sealing his fate, Billy's self-perception crumbled, and a sense of profound inadequacy gripped his heroic mind. "Help! Somebody, please!" he shouted, his desperation escalating with each passing moment.

The abstract patterns etched onto his spandex-clad heroic body seemed to mock his genius, distorting his perception of self-worth. The cocoon, an encroaching shroud of doom, elicited twitches and jerks from his once-coordinated form. Billy's body convulsed in response to the malevolent force that sought to engulf him entirely.

His feet kicked violently in the air as he was inexorably drawn helmet-first into the painting hell. The small, smothering tunnel of despair seemed to tighten with each passing moment, squeezing the air from his gasping lungs. Billy's desperate attempts to breathe echoed the profound despair gripping his rapidly fading hope.

"Can't... breathe!" he choked out, his voice strained and muffled by the encroaching malevolence. "Help! Anybody! Kimberly, please!" Billy shouted in a frenzied plea for assistance, his words carrying the weight of desperation as he reached out for any potential savior.

“Your blue soul and mind are now my food!” shouted the boasting evil Kimberly doppelganger as she saw the Blue Ranger’s downfall.

***

The atmosphere in the lab shifted abruptly as the heroic entrance of Zack, the Black Mastodon Ranger, clashed with the unfolding horror. Billy's spandex-clad legs were still suspended in the air, gradually being slurped into the malevolent painting. Zack, having just returned with the requested equipment, burst into the room with youthful energy.

"Hey, Billy! I'm back with the stuff you asked for," he exclaimed, his excitement quickly transforming into shock as he beheld the gruesome scene before him. The sight of Billy's legs disappearing into the evil painting sent a shiver down his spine. “What the-”

Reacting swiftly, Zack reached for his Black Ranger Power Buckle, ready to transform and intervene in this unexpected crisis. Little did he know, a sinister presence lingered in the shadows. Evil Kimberly, maintaining her façade, seized the opportunity. With a swift and precise shot from her Power Bow, she struck Zack's arm mid-transformation sequence, interrupting the morphing process and causing his Power Buckle to tumble to the ground.

Zack, bewildered and in disbelief, stared at Kimberly, his eyes wide with shock. "Why, Kimberly? Why?" he questioned, unable to comprehend the betrayal. To his surprise, her response was far from remorseful.

"Zack, darling, we needed a change in our play-as-hero game. This is just the beginning of a new style of ‘being whimpering bitches of the abstract underworld’," she sneered, her tone obnoxious and triumphant. Before Zack could react, she casually tossed his Black Ranger Power Buckle into the malevolent painting.

The evil arm within the painting eagerly caught the falling buckle, triggering an energy cascade that surged through Zack like a powerful bolt of lightning. In an instant, he found himself transformed into the Black Ranger. However, the elation of assuming his superhero persona was short-lived.

Summoning his Power Ax weapon, Zack's excitement turned to horror as he noticed an unusual stiffness in his arm. His eyes widened as he looked down at his previously-heroic suit, now marred by the spreading abstract painting pattern akin to the malevolent painting.

"No... Not a chance," Zack muttered, denying the reality of the corrupted transformation. Undeterred, he dropped to the floor, desperately crawling toward his Power Ax, determined to seize any means of defense. Yet, evil Kimberly made her presence known, kicking the weapon just out of reach.

Simultaneously, the evil arm from the painting swirled out, coiling around the legs of the abstract-painted Black Ranger. Zack's powerful hands pounded the floor, desperately grabbing anything within reach to resist the yanking force. His efforts were in vain as the malevolent force proved too powerful, and his corrupted form lacked the strength to resist.

Struggling to reach his wrist communicator, Zack's attempts were thwarted as the evil Pink Ranger's energy arrow pierced and destroyed it. The only lifeline to communicate with Zordon and seek help was now lost.

As Zack fought against the inexorable force pulling him into the painting, the muffled forms of his trapped teammates, the real Kimberly and Billy, pushed out with their hands from the canvas. Their desperate attempts to escape echoed through the lab, their begging, stuttering, and panicking screams forming a haunting chorus that reverberated against the malevolent silence of the painting hell. The joyous laughter of the evil Pink Ranger in the background added a sinister layer to the unfolding tragedy, sealing the fate of the Mighty Morphin Power Rangers in an unforeseen twist of despair.

Evil Kimberly chuckled malevolently as Zack struggled. "I hope you’d like your stay, Black Ranger. Your turn to be crushed by the devil in the canvas," she taunted, her words dripping with sadistic delight. Zack, trapped and defeated, could only glare back at her in frustration and horror.

As Zac desperately reached for his Power Ax, a surge of malevolent energy accompanied the spreading abstract pattern that slithered across his Black Ranger suit. The once-heroic attire was now twisted with repulsive, grotesque colors mimicking the cursed painting. Simultaneously, a nauseating stench reminiscent of fetid decay seeped into the suit, filling the confined space around Zac.

The moment the foul odor invaded, Zac's hand instinctively shot up to his helmet, clutching it in agony. The helmet, once a symbol of heroism, now felt like a throbbing source of pain under the assault of the evil stench. "Augh! What is this smell? It's... it's choking me!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, the frenzied panic evident in his voice.

The repugnant stench overwhelmed him, causing his helmet to pulse with pain. Thoughts became a foggy haze as the corrupted aroma clouded his ability to think straight. Zac, usually sharp-minded and strategic, found himself ensnared in a mental fog, losing hope along with his physical struggles.

Zack's desperate crawl toward the unreachable Power Ax mirrored his futile struggle against the impending doom. "Come on, come on!" he muttered to himself, the frustration mounting as his fingers brushed against the cold floor just short of his goal. Evil Kimberly, enjoying the spectacle, kicked the weapon further away, mocking his futile efforts.

Stuttering gasps of denial and desperate screams escaped his lips as he grappled with the sensory assault. Amidst the nightmarish haze, the evil painting's arm, now coiled around Zac's legs, intensified its yanking force. The relentless pull dragged him away from his weapon and toward the abyss of the painting's depths.

"Get off me! I won't let you take me!" he shouted defiantly, his voice strained with panic.

Real Kimberly's voice, stifled by the canvas, barely broke through the malevolent silence. "Zack, help us! It's hell in here!" she pleaded, her words carrying a desperate urgency. Billy's muffled cries added to the cacophony, creating a chorus of suffering that reverberated through the lab.

Zac, the Black Mastodon Ranger, was now enveloped in the malevolent embrace of the abstract painting. His legs had vanished into the inescapable canvas, and the insidious pattern spread over his spandex-clad heroic body, transforming it into a skintight cocoon of doom. Despite his powerful hands pounding the floor and grasping at anything within reach, he was unable to stop the relentless force that dragged him toward his nightmarish fate.

"I won't... I won't give up! I'll fight until my last breath!" he declared, his frenzied screams echoing in the distorted atmosphere.

Amid Zac's despair, evil Kimberly observed with sadistic delight. Her eyes glittered with an unholy arousal as she reveled in the degradation of the Black Mastodon Ranger. "Look at you, struggling like a helpless insect. You will look good as a shapeless splat on the wall," she taunted.

Zac's desperate cries for help were met with evil Kimberly's mocking taunts.

"Did you really think you could escape the artistic ending that awaits all Rangers? Pathetic."

Zac, still clinging to the hope of escape, attempted to reach for his communicator. "We need help! Zordon, anyone, please!" His plea, however, fell on deaf ears as the twisted pocket dimension isolated the room from external communication.

The evil painting arm, seemingly sentient in its malevolence, coiled around Zac's abstract-painted legs and yanked him further into the canvas. His futile attempts to resist, combined with the corrupted colors now adorning his Black Ranger suit, painted a grim picture of defeat. He desperately reached out one last time. "I won't let you win! Power Rangers never surrender!" His defiant declaration echoed through the lab, but it couldn't halt the inevitable.

The malevolent force showed no mercy, and Zac's helmeted head disappeared into the canvas, leaving only his echoing cries behind. The lab now stood as a haunting silent witness to the evil that had triumphed over the young defenders of Angel Grove. The Black Mastodon Ranger had become a tragic addition to the abstract masterpiece, joining his fellow Rangers in an inescapable painting hell.

Evil Kimberly, now reveling in the malevolent ecstasy of her grim victory, found herself surrounded by grotesque imagery of the trapped fates of her team. The real Kimberly the Pink Ranger, Billy the Blue Ranger, and Zac the Black Ranger struggled within the inescapable, suffocating dimension of the bulbous, goopy abstract landscape that seemed to have no exit. Their superhuman strength proved futile against the unbreakable, skintight cocoons that clung to them, smothering and dragging them toward assimilation by the surrounding abstract nightmare.

The once-mighty Rangers, now reduced to writhing figures in the evil painting's clutches, engaged in a symphony of frenzied dialogue, each voice echoing with despair, regret, and self-blame. Real Kimberly's muffled pleas for help mixed with Billy's panicked shouts and Zac's futile struggles, creating a cacophony of anguish.

The real Pink Pterodactyl Ranger's muffled pleas for help became more frantic, her voice tinged with despair. "Guys, please! We can't let it end like this! Jason, Trini, Tommy! Anyone, help us!"

The Blue Triceratops Ranger struggled with the confines of his abstract cocoon. "I can't believe it's come to this. Someone, please, we need a way out!"

The Black Mastodon Ranger pounded against the cocoon, his voice echoing with panic. "I can't breathe! Somebody, anybody, help us break free! This can't be the end!"

Inside the surreal and nightmarish dimension of the evil painting, the trapped Rangers continued their furious struggle against the unyielding, elastic cocoon that bound them. The psychedelic landscape offered no escape, and the trapped heroes pushed against their skintight prisons with desperation.

Within her cocoon, Real Kimberly's voice carried the weight of regret. "We were supposed to be the ones saving Angel Grove, not victims of some twisted artwork!"

Billy, normally the genius mind of the team, succumbed to despair. "I should've seen it coming. It's my fault – all of it!"

Zac shrieked too. "This can't be the end for us. We were supposed to stand together, not fall apart like this!"

Their futile struggles against the slimy muck dimension intensified, painting a grim picture of lost hope and torment. Evil Kimberly, observing with an alluring gasp and moan, took pleasure in the spectacle. The imagery fueled her dark desires, and she reveled in the suffering she had orchestrated.

As the scenes unfolded like a nightmarish drama, each trapped Ranger embodied the essence of despair. Evil Kimberly, deeply aroused by the suffering, licked her lips with satisfaction. The grim fate of the three Rangers only fueled her hunger for more.

With a sinister grin, she plotted her next move, envisioning the remaining Mighty Morphin Power Rangers as part of her twisted masterpiece. The lab, now a dark chamber of horror, awaited its next victims, and the malevolent force behind it hungered for the souls of the remaining Rangers.

"Sweet, sweet despair of color-coded morons," she murmured to herself, reveling in the lingering echoes of the Rangers' frantic dialogue. "But the freak show isn't over yet. The rest of the worthless team will join this masterpiece of suffering, and there's nothing the kids can do to stop it! Hahaha!”