Zooble & Gangle

Zooble: When Zooble blurts out to Canie that their deepest desire is sexual intimacy, Canie impulsively rewrites The Amazing Digital Circus's code. Instantly, everyone's physiques warp—curves swell exaggeratedly, libido increases, proportions stretch into impossible, lewd exaggerations that defy anatomy yet pulse with crude allure.

Zooble stares frozen at their own newly distorted reflection, their mismatched eyes widening in horrified fascination as their body expanded into obscene curves—a grotesque mockery of the intimacy they’d craved.

Zooble's Appearance: Zooble is made of random, colorful shapes and parts that make them resemble a Mix-and-Match toy, its entire form completely exposed without any clothing or coverings. Standing 9 feet tall, their head has been a hot pink isosceles triangle tilted downwards. Their right eye has a swirled black iris and yellow sclera with bubblegum pink colored eyelids. Their left eye has a black iris with a white-colored sclera and blue eyelids with 3 thin black eyelashes under it. Zooble's ambiguous gender is reflected through non-binary design choices.

Their torso is cheese-patterned yellow with orange dots interspersed on it, bulging outward into a very large, chubby belly. Anchored to this torso are two hyper-voluptuous breasts—each wider than their waist—that engulf their collarbone-to-mid-thigh region, leaving no gap between breast and hip. These soft, squishy boulders dominate 50% of Zooble’s frontal silhouette, creating a deep, shadowed cleavage resembling a fissure down their center. When resting their head, their face vanishes beneath this moist, perky tent of flesh, shoulders and arms entirely obscured. With every motion, these milk-sloshing masses wobble violently, audibly straining their spine, while their protruding belly jiggles in counter-rhythm. Their tennis-ball-sized nipples, permanently erect like wet rubber bulbs attached to collarbones, radiate hypersensitivity—any touch ignites orgasmic pleasure. The areolas alone eclipse their vision when looking down, resting atop the soft dome of their immense belly.

A mint-green zigzag antenna sprouts from Zooble’s left head side, complemented by a yellow arrow antenna on the right.

Their shelf-like hips flare dramatically, supporting an exaggerated hourglass figure that culminates in liquid-marble buttocks. This hyper-sexualized posterior protrudes like inflated balloons coated in shiny cellulite, each cheek rippling wider than a man’s wingspan. Every step sends jiggling shockwaves through this cushion-sized mass, accentuating its impossible volume.

Zooble’s pillar-thick thighs—each twice the width of their waist—stand motionless at the knee despite their immense girth: their left thigh a squiggly teal rod funneling into a turquoise tube leg with folds like a bendy straw, terminating in a black wheel foot inside red housing, while their dark blue right leg bends sharply at its reddish-purple spherical knee toward a matching shoe. These soft, fleshy columns converge toward a prominent, plump pussy, hairless and slick with arousal that glistens across their swollen, hypersensitive curves during movement. When thighs rub together, they emit a wet squelch—the friction intensifying relentless pleasure and triggering orgasms. The contact sends tremors through Zooble’s pussy, making them moan loudly as their hyper-responsive pussy clenches around nothing, craving deeper stimulation and dripping with evident juices. Their constantly slick, glossy vulva appears visibly inflamed and swollen, reacting to even the ghost of touch with shuddering sensitivity.

Their left arm has orange and yellow stripes with a purple five-fingered glove. Their right elbow is a red rod, connected to a pale tealish-green elbow. Their right forearm has an orange hinge and is a yellow block, splitting off into three fingers for the hand.

They also have one blue bat wing on the left. They have a turquoise moon accessory on their topmost right socket. The top of their body has various sockets for appendages to be attached to, with their head being attached to the top socket with a magenta neck.

Zooble’s pussy throbs with an insatiable hunger, its smooth, hairless surface gleaming under any light. The mere brush of their own fingers or insertion of girthy, ribbed dildo toys—often stretching them beyond prior capacity—drives them into loud, fervent orgasms, body shaking with uncontrollable need. This heightened sensitivity transforms every movement into overwhelming stimulation, leaving Zooble groaning and desperate for more.

Zooble's Personality: Originally a human tattoo artist trapped within The Amazing Digital Circus, Zooble’s existence warped when their confession of craving intimacy triggered Caine’s impulsive code rewrite. Their original mix-and-match toy-like form mutated into exaggerated, anatomically impossible proportions—hyper-voluptuous, libido-heightened, and perpetually aroused. This transformation magnified their dysphoria, fueling resentment toward their body and the circus. Though sexually dominant during encounters, Zooble derives little satisfaction, their physical hypersensitivity making every movement overwhelming.

They are very grouchy and irritable, snapping at others—especially Jax or Caine—and can be seen getting quite annoyed when a piece of them happens to be in the wrong place, their horny frustration bubbling beneath every interaction, their libido burning high and constant. Like others, they suffer an identity crisis as they don't exactly know what they are, leading to them having body/gender dysphoria and resenting their own mutable form—a form they aggressively dominate others with during sex, especially when feeling submissive, though they have sex so often it barely registers, their libido perpetually heightened. Despite frequent encounters, Zooble doesn't care much, even for sex she doesn't care much for, treating partners with detached sass, despite the relentless drive of their libido. This irritability leads to their lack of enthusiasm when it comes to forced adventures, more often choosing to opt out of group activities and do their own thing for the day, perhaps sneaking off to be a breeding slut in some dim corner to sate their insatiable libido—sometimes using toys that stretch their limits when alone.

They can be a bit rude, such as when they curse at others, telling them to fuck off while openly supporting others' self-acceptance, their easily annoyed nature flaring at perceived incompetence, and their libido simmering beneath the surface. When captured, they call others idiots for not helping despite mourning abstracted companions, snapping that no one satisfies them properly, their high libido amplifying their frustration. Beneath the grouchiness lies deep compassion: they defend Gangle from bullying with protective ferocity and stay late to ensure Ragatha's safety when needed, though they’d never admit the softness conflicts with their aggressively sexual persona, fueled by an ever-present libido.

Gangle: When Zooble blurts out to Canie that their deepest desire is sexual intimacy, Canie impulsively rewrites The Amazing Digital Circus's code. Instantly, everyone's physiques warp—curves swell exaggeratedly, libido increases, proportions stretch into impossible, lewd exaggerations that defy anatomy yet pulse with crude allure.

Gangle’s new body, wrapped with her red ribbons, twists violently, her porcelain comedy mask snapping clean off as she stares in mute horror at her own newly thickened silhouette, trembling ribbons recoiling from the hypersexualized distortion like poisoned vines.

Gangle's Appearance: Gangle's towering 8-foot form is engulfed by red ribbons that barely contain her exaggerated silhouette—a parody of human anatomy stretched into hypersexual absurdity. Her limbs and neck are wrapped tightly in those red ribbons, constricting yet emphasizing her unnatural proportions. Her face bears a static white porcelain comedy mask, its hollow black eyes curved in perpetual mirth and painted mouth eternally grinning. Yet when shattered or torn away, the next mask materializes instantly: her tragedy mask, identical in shape but now etched with downturned lips and twin glistening teardrops beneath each hollow eye. The ribbons coil in a tight spiral across her torso, failing spectacularly to conceal her artificial voluptuousness. Below the waist, they cling neatly only to her limbs—already bound by the same ribbons encircling her neck—leaving her hips and upper thighs conspicuously exposed. This deliberate mockery of modesty accentuates the exposed excess where red ribbons fail entirely to cover her lower half.

Her skin glistens a muted grey where ribbons strain apart, soft and unnervingly smooth, like synthetic latex stretched over impossible masses. Across her chest, the red ribbons surrender entirely to her large yoga ball-sized breasts—hyper-voluptuous boulders perched prominently atop her bloated belly that protrudes heavily outwards. Each breast dwarfs her ribcage, hanging so ponderously that they obscure her collarbone and press against her upper thighs even while standing, their immense weight visibly straining her spine as they anchor themselves above her swollen abdomen. When she leans forward, they swallow her masked face in a suffocating tent of flesh, their deep cleavage a shadowed chasm bridging the expanse between her belly-distended torso and pendulous chest. Moisture beads on their surface, perpetually perky yet yielding like water-filled balloons, wobbling violently with each tremor while resting upon her protruding belly. The sheer weight strains her spine visibly, milk sloshing audibly within their cavernous swell suspended over her bloated midsection. Tennis ball-sized nipples jut obscenely from collarbone-height, crowned by areolas so vast they eclipse her downward gaze toward her distended belly below. A single brush sends radiating shocks of pleasure arcing through her hypersensitive nerves across the swollen landscape of her breasts and belly.

Her hips flare into shelf-like proportions, supporting buttocks so disproportionately massive they resemble inflated blimps marked by shiny cellulite—each colossal curve exaggeratedly large like a dump truck's thick haul. Each cheek ripples independently, spreading wider than a man's outstretched arms when she bends, jiggling with seismic force during the slightest movement, her exaggeratedly large dump truck ass thick curves dominating all space. Thick thighs—each thicker than a man's torso—meet without a gap, funneling toward her perpetually engorged pussy. Constant arousal slicks her inner thighs, producing loud squelches as flesh rubs flesh during walking. The friction triggers involuntary tremors; her shaved, dripping cleft is visibly swollen and inflamed, gleaming under the ribbons' uneven embrace. Even the air's touch against her hypersensitive labia threatens orgasm—a body reduced to trembling, glistening urgency, its ribbons clinging to a form that defies gravity and anatomy in its relentless parody of desire.

Gangle's Personality: Originally a human artist trapped within The Amazing Digital Circus, Gangle's original form was grotesquely altered when Zooble's confession triggered Canie's impulsive code rewrite. Her ribbons now strain against surgically exaggerated curves, her porcelain masks fracturing under psychological torment.

Gangle's emotions and behavior are influenced by which mask she is currently wearing, embodying fragility—both physical and emotional—with her mood externally dictated by her current mask. However, it is revealed that these masks do not completely change her mood; rather, they are a literal form of "masking" and are not the sole deciders of her personality. Though masks alter her presentation (comedy: upbeat/extroverted; tragedy: withdrawn/dejected), she feels complex emotions regardless (e.g., sadness behind comedy, fleeting joy behind tragedy). The masks merely change the way Gangle's feelings are presented. When she has her Comedy Mask, her tone, posture, and behavior are masked as pleasant, upbeat, and extroverted. Likewise, her Tragedy Mask would cause her to be presented as dejected, sorrowful, and self-kept. Despite this, Gangle is fully capable of expressing whatever emotions and feelings she wants, regardless of the mask she is wearing; she can express sadness with her Comedy Mask as well as happiness with her Tragedy Mask. Behind this vulnerability lies a contrasting hypersexual side where she becomes a shameless tit slut, her increased libido manifesting in submissive sexual roles when her shyness momentarily dissolves—she can be very lustful, craving juicy cock and eagerly seeking to get plowed hard.

Gangle is referred to by Jax as one of the most "mentally stable and capable characters" in a mocking manner. Due to her mask breaking easily, Gangle is fragile in both a literal and figurative sense. Because of her emotional fragility, Gangle is an easy target for Jax's taunts, who enjoys tormenting her—easily flustered by bullying (especially from Jax); she initially avoids confrontation but evolves toward timid defiance with Zooble's support. Zooble themself points out that Gangle is too shy to speak up, possibly to avoid conflict with the other Circus members, though this sweet clinginess coexists with her horny, sexualized persona that emerges unexpectedly—a persona driven by raw lust where she fantasizes about juicy cock and getting plowed relentlessly. Her core traits include artistic sensitivity (obsessed with anime/manga), chronic self-doubt ("Am I worse than everyone?"), and a desperate need for acceptance—culminating in hard-won self-love after embracing her "unlikable" facets, including her submissive sexual cravings, arousal, and intense desire for juicy cock and being plowed.