Making money

You'd think a super strong wouldn't have money problems, but I don't want to rob a bank just yet. Not because it would be dangerous or something, I could rob fort Knox without getting my hair messed up, but that would draw a lot of attention and the innocent owners of the money certainly wouldn't like it.

So, I'm stuck trying other things. With all respect to Volupia, I don't think I'm placing any coal anywhere inside my body unless I'm really desperate (or bored). 

I like the modeling suggestion though, so I got out my camera, a tripod and put on one of the smaller bikinis. At first, I wanted to do some shots at my biggest, but that might not be the smartest thing to do. So, instead of getting fully pumped up, I just did some squats holding my three-seat sofa, a few curls with the a crumpled up lamppost I "found" outside, and finally a few thousand sit-ups holding the same improvised weight. (I really should get some real weights).

When I was done, my bikini was stretched to it's limits, my pectorals pushing my breasts out at least a cup size more than it was designed for. My pumped up shoulders were stretching the shoulder straps to their limits. The small triangles of fabric were strained by my breasts, my now steel-hard nipples making it even worse, but it still held on. A bit lower, my stomach had hardened to an eight-pack, each block pushing half an inch out of my perfectly tanned skin. The bikini panties were having an equally hard time, my round butt closing completely around the rear, with the front stretching tight because of my pumped up muscles. It's a good thing I wasn't wearing any pants, because my thick, hard thigh would have torn them apart like wet tissue paper.

I put the camera on automatic, one picture every second for about five minutes. I did a series of poses, from flexing my large muscles, to cute smiles, to classic modeling poses. I showed of every part of my new body, knowing that while I was incredibly muscular now, it was still quite small compared to what I could achieve, and even that paled compared to my strength. I rather enjoyed the little posing session in my room and backyard, far more than selecting the best pictures, but that had to be done to. 

I sorted them out, wrote a nice letter including a training schedule that I thought would be good enough for someone of this size, my measurements and some general friendliness. I printed out five sets of pictures and letters, stuffed them in an envelope and mailed them to several well-known modeling agencies, both regular and for muscular women. Then I repeated everything for my "small" size, taking care only to mail those to regular modeling agencies.

When I was done, it was only 6 am and I didn't need much sleep now. The other suggestions you all made were constantly on my mind, so I decided to find a quicker supply of money...