Paul slid his hands over the boy's glistening black skin to his lats. The boy was still relaxed. He squeezed the thick slabs of muscle with his fingers. The muscle felt firm and supple, like thick slabs of meat. Paul was amazed at how big the 8 year old boy's lats were. They formed a huge mass under his wide shoulders and tapered down to his narrow hips. And he wasn't even flexing. Then the boy flexed his lats and those two big slabs of muscle spread like wings on the sides of his broad back. All of a sudden, the muscle felt like rock in Paul's hands. He squeezed harder but he couldn't make the slightest dent in those slab-like wings. "I can do 2 pull- ups with one of my friends hanging on my back," said the boy. "My lats are super big and super strong. I can lift more than double my bodyweight." Paul gulped. He could only do one pull-up, and that was a struggle. He couldn't even imagine what it would feel like to be able to do 2 reps with someone hanging on your back. But to this boy, that was just normal. "That's incredible. You are one strong slave boy," said Paul. "You got that right, Master," said the boy. "My muscles are super strong and they're getting' stronger every day."

The boy was really proud of his body. He relaxed his lats and turned around to face Paul. "Feel my shoulder muscles, Master Paul. Feel how strong those muscles are. I can press 20 pounds more than I weigh!" Paul placed both hands on the boy's shoulders and the boy started pressing his arms up and down, like he was lifting a heavy weight over his head. Paul felt the thick fibers of the boy's delts flexing as his arms moved up and down. The fibers felt like warm steel cords. They were as hard as rock. The boy's delts formed thick caps of muscle on his big shoulders and that muscle was incredibly hard and strong. Paul could see the striated fibers of muscle flexing and twitching under the boy's sweaty, black skin--- skin that was as thin as cellophane. Paul's cock started twitching again as he watched the big muscles working and thought about the power in this boy's shoulders and arms. "My muscle's really big and hard, ain't it, Master Paul," said the boy. "I can tell my muscle's a lot bigger and harder than yours. You look like you got nothin' but bone on your shoulders. No muscle at all. I got lots more muscle than you got, and I'm only 8 years old." Paul gulped as he thought about what the boy said. He was right. He had far more muscle on his 8 year old shoulders than Paul had on his bony 16 year old shoulders. He was already 3 times as strong. "Yeah, Master Paul," said the boy, "Just think about how much muscle I'm gonna have on my shoulders when I'm 16 like you. I'm gonna be super strong. I'm gonna be able to press 300 pounds no sweat. My shoulders are gonna be wide and big and strong. Nothin' like your puny shoulders at all." The boy was certainly confident. He knew he was a stud and Paul was a wimp. He didn't have to say it but Paul knew it. He kept moving his arms up and down and Paul kept feeling the bulging muscle. Paul got a pit in his stomach as he felt the bulging fibers of those delts as the boy bragged about how much more muscle he already had than Paul and how much bigger he would get by age 16. If he was pressing 100 pounds now he'll probably be pressing 275 pounds easy by the time he was 16. Maybe even 300 pounds like he said. There were lots of 16 year olds on the plantation who could press 300 pounds over their head. Paul himself could only press about 30 pounds overhead and this 8 year old black muscleboy could already press 100 pounds. The boy was three times stronger than Paul already and was on his way to being 10 times as strong. And this was the smallest boy among the 8 year olds. Jessie, that 100 pound boy, had even more muscle on his body and was even stronger than this young muscleman. Paul quivered in awe of these genetically superior muscleboys.

The boy put down his arms and looked down at his legs. "Now feel my legs, Master Paul. They're really big and hard. That's why I can run so fast. My legs are like iron." Paul got down on his knees and tried to wrap his two hands around the boy's right leg. The muscles were big and thick and Paul couldn't even get close to wrapping his hands around them. The boy at first kept the muscles relaxed and Paul kneaded the thick muscle with his fingers. Even relaxed, the muscle felt very hard. Paul's fingers could only penetrate about a half inch into the warm fibers. Then without warning the boy flexed. The muscles of his quads, hamstrings and leg biceps exploded under his skin, suddenly becoming solid rock. Paul couldn't believe how massive and hard those muscles were. He could see and feel the fibers of muscle bulging under the boy's sweaty black skin. The quads looked like teardrops above his knees, striated with muscle fibers. All the young slaves squatted with very heavy weights, building huge strong muscles in their thighs and nice, shapely muscles in their firm, round muscle butts. The boy's leg biceps were equally big and hard, built up from sprinting and deadlifting. "How much can you squat with, boy?" asked Paul as he felt the size and incredible hardness of the young slave's thighs. "I'm up to 180 pounds, Master," bragged the boy. "That's more than twice my weight. These mothers are really strong." He relaxed and flexed several times, letting Paul take in the incredible muscularity of his thighs. Paul nodded his head in total agreement.

Paul slid his hands around to the boy's firm, round ass. He ran his hands over the sweaty black skin, feeling the perfect roundness of the boy's butt. Then the boy flexed his glutes and the bulging muscle formed two globes of rock. The muscle was so hard that Paul's fingers couldn't make the slightest dent. He could see striations of muscle fibers in the ass. The boy had so little fat on his body that even his ass had cuts. "Your butt feels strong," said Paul. "It's part of the reason you can run so fast." The boy did a low squat and then stood up straight, squeezing his glutes extra tight. "Yeah," he said. "I'm solid muscle all over, even in my butt." He knew his body was fantastic. He was enjoying all this attention.

Next, Paul slipped his hands down to the boy's calves. The boy did toe raises so Paul could check out the big, flexing muscles in his calves. The big muscles bulged like diamonds. They were incredibly hard. "We do calf raises with really heavy weights," said the boy. "All of us slave boys have really strong calves. That's why we can run so fast. I can already lift 250 pounds in calf raises and I'm only 8. Some of the 14 year olds can do calf raises with 750 pounds. They're really strong. I'm gonna be that strong when I'm 14 too. We're bred to be strong. I think it's great to be strong!" The boy smiled proudly. He knew he was a superior specimen. He was proud of his breeding.

Paul looked up at the naked black boy. The boy's cock was getting aroused from all the talk about his muscles and his strength and having his master feeling his muscles. He hadn't entered puberty yet, so his cock was still the cock of a boy. But even though he hadn't reached puberty, he could still get a hard on. All the slave boys were incredibly sexual from an early age. They were completely uninhibited and didn't think twice about walking around totally nude or getting a hard on. To them, it was completely natural. They were being bred to have sex, lots of sex, to produce even bigger, stronger, young supermen. They all had fantastic bodies, both boys and girls, and it was natural for them to get turned on all the time. They saw sex all around them all the time as their parents, their aunts and uncles and their brothers and sisters, all muscular breeding slaves, fucked each other every day, sometimes many times a day, to produce even more physically superior slaves in the next generation. The slaves didn't have private rooms. They all slept in big open rooms, so all the boys and girls saw all the sex from the day they were born. Sex among the breeding slaves - all those over 14 who had survived the contests-- was encouraged, so sex was everywhere.

Therefore, the young slaves were completely uninhibited about their bodies and the boy slaves were completely uninhibited about their cocks. Paul's dad didn't start measuring the slave boys' cocks until age 12, after they had gone through puberty, so Paul didn't know how big this boy's cock could get when it was hard. The boy saw Paul looking at his cock and smiled. He put his hand on his cock and with only about three gentle strokes the cock was fully erect. To Paul's amazement it looked to be about 5 inches long, the same size as Paul's. Paul gulped. "My legs ain't the only things that's hard," said the boy, kind of giggling. He reached down and grabbed Paul's hand, placing it on his cock, which was pointing almost straight up. Instinctively, Paul squeezed the cock. It was thick and it felt as hard as a steel pipe. It felt much harder than Paul's own cock when he was aroused. "See, even my cock muscle is hard, ain't it Master Paul. It's hard just like the rest of me. I'm a strong, hard, slave boy stud." The boy smiled confidently. He knew he was right.

Paul let go of the boy's cock and stood up. He was almost panting. "Yeah, you're a stud all right. You're gonna breed some very strong and fast kids when it comes time for you to start breeding. You look like you're ready now!" Paul smiled and patted the boy on his muscular round ass, taking care to feel the bulging muscle. The boy smiled proudly.

After this experience, Paul took a break and watched the 9 year old boys wrestling each other. There were about 15 of these boys standing around cheering as three pairs of their mates wrestled each other. Three of the boys were acting as referees. All of the 9 year olds looked like they were several inches taller and at least 20 pounds heavier than the 8 year olds. Their shoulders were capped with thick, striated muscle. Their muscular arms hung down like hams, the muscle fibers twitching with their every move, ready to spring into action at their young commander's order. Their thick lats flared out to the sides, tapering from their wide shoulders to their very narrow hips. Their big, round pecs bulged with mounds of striated muscle and their abs were shredded like washboards. Most of them had 8 packs, not just 6 packs. Their serratus muscles slashed from their hips to their crotches in bold relief. They all had narrow, athletic hips and firm round muscle butts. Their legs were striated with thick muscle. The separation in their quads was clearly visible, even relaxed. Their calves bulged out with shredded muscle, the result of endless running and jumping and brutal weight training. Looking at these incredibly muscular 9 year olds, Paul could plainly see the results of 7 generations of great breeding. All the weakness had been bred out. All the muscle and strength had been bred in. All of these boys were perfect specimens of absolutely muscular super-strong youth. But the breeding would continue. Every one of them could do the maximum 1,000 pushups. All of them could do over 200 pushups and 100 pull-ups. All of them could curl almost their bodyweight and press much more than their bodyweight easily. Nevertheless, the weakest and least athletic one of two of these boys would be sent to the slave auction tomorrow. By the time this group got to breeding age at 14, only the absolutely biggest, strongest and most athletic of these boys would remain to breed another generation of even bigger, stronger, and more athletic young slaves. Paul looked at the big, muscular 9 year olds, smiled and said to himself, "We are creating a race of supermen." His still-stiff cock twitched in his crotch.

He watched the boys wrestle. They wrestled 3 matches at a time and each boy wrestled three times. There was no time limit. The boys wrestled until one of the boys pinned his opponent or the opponent submitted. The only rules were no hitting or grabbing the crotch, no gouging the eyes, no choking with your hands (it was OK to choke with your bicep) and no punching. The boys were too strong to allow punching. Within these rules, it was a fight to the finish. And it was an incredible sight to see. Each match consisted of one incredibly well tuned muscle machine pushing and pulling on the equally muscular and well tuned muscle machine of his opponent. It was like two strong, young animals in their prime fighting for the right to mate with the female. Fighting to be the dominant male. Fighting to be the Alpha slave. These boys knew they were fighting to survive to become one of the breeding males. Fighting to be one of the biggest and strongest boys, who at age 14 became breeding males and were then allowed to have unlimited sex and produce as many offspring as possible. It was like heaven. These boys knew they were literally fighting for their lives. If they didn't succeed, they would be sent off to the slave auction and who knows what would await them at age 14. It sure wasn't unlimited sex. So they fought extra hard. The wrestling results were added into the scores for running, jumping, pushups, pull-ups, weightlifting, height, weight and muscles size (and cock size for the boys 12 and older). It was the overall score that determined who was going to survive and who wasn't. But wrestling was very important. The boys struggled with all the intensity their young musclebodies could muster.

Paul marveled at the muscles on the black bodies of the boys as they wrestled. The muscles looked like they were carved from rock. Living, pulsating, writhing rock. Striations of muscle fibers covered the entire bodies of the young wrestlers. Arms, shoulders, back, abs, legs. Every part of their bodies was pumped and shredded. Huge amounts of sweat was pouring off their paper-thin black skin. These boys were in such incredible shape that they could continue at this incredible intensity for many minutes. A mere mortal, like Paul, would be completely exhausted after about 30 seconds. Paul marveled at v-shape of the back on one young wrestler who had forced his body on top of his opponent. He had grabbed the arms of his opponent and was trying to wrestle him down for a pin. His shoulders were wide and rippling. The heads of his delts were striated with muscle. His lats flared out from those wide shoulders like big slabs of hard, fibrous beef. His traps were bulging on both sides of his muscular neck as he applied incredible force to keep the other boy under his control. His lower back muscles looked like two wedges of rock. Striated fibers of rock. Hard, solid muscles that were the keystone to his incredible strength. His muscle butt bulged on his narrow hips as he applied more and more power. His arms were writhing with muscle as they pushed on the weakening arms of the other boy. His triceps jumped under his thin black skin and his incredibly muscular forearms were rippling and covered with veins.

The strong boy's opponent looked like he was getting weaker. He tried to push the strong boy off his body. Normally, he could easily push one of his mates off his chest, because he could bench press much more than what he weighed. But he was exhausted. He looked up at the strong boy with a look of terror in his eyes. He knew he was weak and the strong boy was strong. He knew that it was survival of the fittest and the strong boy was stronger and fitter that he was. A look of fear accompanied the look of terror in his eyes as he looked at the bulging muscles of the strong boy, muscles that were now completely dominating him. That only increased the adrenaline coursing through the strong boy's pumped, muscular body. The strong boy smiled with a look of confident superiority as he watched his big, rippling muscles overpower the weaker boy. The strong boy sensed this moment of weakness in his opponent. The strong boy was strong. He was bred to be strong. He was a winner. Using all his enormous strength, he lifted the weakened boy's arms over the boy's head and slammed his muscular chest onto the chest of the weakened boy. There was a loud smacking sound as the strong boy's chest smashed into the body of the weak boy. The referee signaled a pin. The strong boy smiled and rubbed his sweaty, muscular chest on the chest of the defeated boy, while at the same time thrusting his hips up and down, rubbing his now-hard cock on the abs of the defeated boy in a fucking motion. His body was charged with testosterone and adrenaline. He was pumped with aggression and victory. This sexual act was a primal act of conquest. Of the strong conquering the weak. Of the victor rubbing his big muscles on the body of the vanquished boy and completely dominating him with his cock. The strong boy was the victor and he could humiliate the weak loser all he wanted. Those were the rules of the slave boys. The strong victor could do whatever he wanted to the weak loser. And only the strong survived to be breeding slaves. The weak were thrown away like trash. •