rubenescritor

Of all of the tropes of feedist fiction, anything to do with the scale is probably the most sacrosanct. The scenes can take many forms: sometimes someone is forced onto one by a doctor or a family member, and in others the subject of weight gain happily bounces (or waddles) to the scale to see their progress. The scale both symbolically and practically represents the zenith of much -- and for some, all -- of the joy they derive within a weight gain kink. And yet, amidst the primacy of the scale and the numbers that it provides to us kinky feedists, we all seem to struggle immensely with understanding how weight gain actually works. I’m not the first person to say this, but as I have finally embarked upon my own writing in the feedist space after watching it as an observer for over ten years, I would also like to contribute to this discourse. I think we as a community need to get better at understand how weight gain works in practice as a process; how different aspects of a body (e.g.

In my previous essay, I argued that a lot of feedist fiction struggles with grounding itself in a context that feels believable, particularly when it comes to the weights and sizes of characters. In this essay, I go deeper and start to provide some theory and data around what "realistic" weights look like in different contexts, and how one might play with both the data and narrative assumptions to produce the tension that I argued before is so key to effective writing, and particularly erotic storytelling. Let me start this one with a rather curmudgeonly complaint, and that is that one of the most tired and lazy tropes of weight gain fiction is to assume an utterly average and basic weight and height of the main character. I haven’t crunched the numbers formally, but anecdotally, my experience tells me that most writers choose a height for women between 5’4-5’8 and a weight of 115-130 pounds. For BHM fiction, on average I would say I see heights of about 5’9-6’0 and weights of