#ai collaboration

Jim stepped into the gym after another hard workout, his muscles already pumped beneath a tight gold tank top. Waiting beside the weights was a brand-new display of Muscle+ Protein, stacked from floor to ceiling. Curious, he grabbed a can, cracked it open, and drank it in one long gulp.

Almost instantly, he felt a wave of warmth surge through his body. His shoulders broadened, his chest thickened, and his arms swelled with fresh muscle. The tank top hugged him tighter than before as every movement made the fabric strain against his growing physique. He caught his reflection in the mirror and smiled. Whatever was in Muscle+, it was working.

Grinning, Jim reached for a second can.

As he finished drinking, the transformation intensified. His biceps expanded dramatically, veins rose across his forearms, and his chest pushed the fabric outward. His back widened, his waist stayed tight, and his quadriceps became noticeably larger beneath his shorts. Every breath seemed to inflate his physique further, making him look like an elite professional bodybuilder.

The gym fell quiet as people stopped their workouts to watch.

Jim picked up a third can.

This time the change was impossible to ignore. His deltoids rounded into enormous boulders, his arms thickened to incredible proportions, and his neck, traps, and chest surged with size. His thighs became massive columns of muscle, forcing him into a wider stance just to balance his newfound weight. The seams of his tank top creaked as if they could give way at any second.

Instead of stopping, Jim smiled and grabbed another Muscle+ Protein.

Each can seemed to unlock another level of growth. His muscles became larger, fuller, and more defined with every drink. Thick veins spread across his arms, chest, and legs while his abs remained deeply carved beneath his expanding torso. His tank top stretched beyond its limits, the fabric thinning under the pressure of his ever-growing physique.

Then came the final can.

Jim raised it confidently, drank every last drop, and for a brief moment the entire gym seemed to stand still.

A tremendous surge of power rushed through his body. Every muscle expanded one final time. His chest erupted against the fabric, his shoulders ballooned outward, and his colossal arms became almost too large to rest comfortably at his sides. His legs grew into enormous pillars of muscle, and the tank top finally surrendered, tearing apart into shredded strips that hung from his gigantic frame.

When the transformation ended, Jim stood towering over everyone around him—an unbelievably massive bodybuilding titan with a perfectly sculpted physique, colossal muscles, razor-sharp definition, and incredible vascularity from head to toe. The empty Muscle+ can slipped from his hand as he looked around the silent gym.

The onlookers stared in complete amazement.

Jim simply smiled, gave a relaxed flex that made every muscle ripple across his enormous frame, and reached for another can of Muscle+ Protein, wondering if there was another level still waiting to be discovered.

Saturn has always been a force I wrestle with — restriction, karmic weight, and delayed, unending transformations. Ash Loop. Phoenix Syndrome… Whatever you might wanna call it; but if you’re ruled by Saturn, or carry a Saturn complex in your natal chart or transits, you should definitely feel what it means to be ruled and crushed by the mighty Goat God. Since you are usually forced to advance, endure, and to face relentless tests in life and within yourself.

With all that… I promised I’d make a song for the most restless of them all one day. Here we are.

I created this during one of the darkest periods of my life, so it carries most of my fury, desperation and humor.

This project is through AI collaboration. The single has two tracks of the same song with some difference in music and lyrics.

Full lyrics, concept, art direction, structure by me, and part of the composition as well.

If Saturn rules or breaks you too, you’ll prolly feel what I’ve channeled in this sonic art, Enough, Saturn!

Welcome to the entry point of my world of cosmic rebellion, sorrow, and satire…

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[Avant-Garde Hip Hop · Slam Poetry · Art Punk · Post Pop · Experimental Music]

Main song (slightly shorter, sharper & surgical): https://open.spotify.com/track/1K9mLCMOcx4Y0j9wl4uJa9?si

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Full version (more unhinged, more shadow & air): https://open.spotify.com/track/0A5C2UDujfRSkSdV9fYGeW?si

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Find Enough, Saturn! on other streaming platforms:

beta readers needed for my star wars psychological horror trilogy

hey tumblr fam! i just finished a 66-chapter star wars trilogy that's been called "masterwork-level writing" and i need some fresh eyes before i start posting.

the vibe: what if the force could be weaponized for cult manipulation? what if love became the cruelest prison? think chosen family vs cosmic horror, with mandalorians and ancient sith witches thrown in the mix.

the trilogy: Blood & Memory - follows survivors building new lives after tragedy, only to discover that some forms of belonging demand everything you are. it's dark but hopeful, brutal but beautiful.

content warnings: psychological horror, cult themes, trauma, character death - this isn't fluffy fix-it fic

what i need:

sw fans who love complex characters

people who aren't afraid of dark themes

honest feedback on pacing/emotions

maybe 1-2 lore nerds to catch continuity issues

about me: longtime dreamer who used ai collaboration to bring this vision to life. not hiding it, celebrating it. the story came from my heart - claude helped me find the words.

if you're interested, like/reblog this or shoot me a dm! i'll send you the first few chapters (about 15k words) to start.

The music in the club was low and pulsing, a steady rhythm that made the polished black floors seem to hum underfoot. Aidan sat at the bar, idly stirring his drink, watching the ebb and flow of bodies on the dance floor. The lighting was dim, punctuated by occasional flashes of silver and blue that reflected off the club’s chrome and glass surfaces. It was a trendy spot, though not Aidan’s usual scene. He’d let his friend convince him to come, but now he was alone, his friend having vanished into the crowd hours ago.

As Aidan turned his attention back to his drink, his gaze caught on something unusual near the far side of the club. Two men in glossy black suits were speaking with another man—a normal-looking guy in jeans and a shirt. The two in suits stood out sharply from the rest of the crowd. Their outfits weren’t fabric; they were something else entirely, something gleaming and reflective, almost liquid in the way the light ran over their contours. Tight and seamless, the suits covered them from neck to toe, and their high collars were accented with two silver stripes.

The man in the middle looked nervous, glancing around as though searching for an escape. One of the suited men stepped closer, raising a silver-gloved hand in a calming gesture. They weren’t touching him, at least not yet, but they were close, speaking in low, even voices. The man hesitated, his body tense, but he didn’t back away.

Aidan tried not to stare, but he couldn’t look away either. There was something mesmerizing about the scene. The two suited men radiated calm and control, their movements deliberate but not aggressive. They weren’t intimidating in a traditional sense, but their presence was… commanding. Even from a distance, Aidan could feel it—the quiet authority, the precision in how they moved and spoke.

The man in the middle finally seemed to relax, his shoulders dropping as he nodded slowly. One of the suited men extended his hand, and after a moment’s pause, the man took it. It wasn’t a handshake—it was something gentler, almost reverent. The other suited man placed a hand on the man’s back and began guiding him toward a side door, their movements smooth and synchronized. The man walked between them willingly now, his earlier nervousness replaced by an almost dazed calm.

Aidan watched as the door opened to reveal a narrow hallway bathed in soft, white light. The three figures disappeared inside, the door closing silently behind them. For a moment, the club seemed to go back to normal. The music pulsed, the lights flashed, and the crowd carried on as though nothing unusual had happened. But Aidan’s eyes stayed fixed on that door.

A few minutes later, it opened again.

The same man stepped back into the club, but Aidan’s stomach flipped as he realized he was no longer the same. The jeans and shirt were gone, replaced entirely by the same polished black suit the others wore. It clung to his body perfectly, every detail accentuated by the shimmering material. The high collar, striped with silver, sat snugly at his neck. His movements were different now—more deliberate, smoother, as if he had been stripped of all hesitation. His face was calm, blank but not empty, his gaze steady as he adjusted the cuffs of his silver gloves.

 He stepped further into the club, and the other suited men were waiting for him. Without a word, they fell into formation and moved as one toward the dance floor, blending seamlessly with the crowd. Aidan’s pulse quickened as he watched them go. The man who had been standing there nervously just minutes ago was gone, replaced by something precise and composed.

 Aidan shook his head, trying to make sense of what he’d just seen. No one else seemed to notice or care. It was as if the transformation was just another part of the night, something perfectly normal in this strange, gleaming world.

But Aidan couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t normal—at least, not for him. Not yet.

213 thanks @serve-665 for the help to creating this story.

We are one.