March 5th, 2012
The Tucker Max Stories
The Midget Story
We all have dreams. Martin Luther King dreamt of racial harmony. Larry Hagman dreamt of Jeannie. For over a decade, I dreamt of fucking a midget. One weekend in July of 2006, I finally achieved my dream. It went down like this:
I was at the gym when I got this text message from my buddy DrunkasaurusRex. He likes to play with my emotions, so I never take his text messages seriously:
5:51pm DrunkRex: There is a midget convention at the hilton in milwaukee here with my girlfriend and [soylentgreen] is here too.
5:52pm Tucker: Fuck you
5:53pm Drunkrex: Im dead serious
5:54pm Tucker: I hate you
5:56pm Drunkrex: Soylent has a free roundtrip ticket
6:00pm Tucker: STOP TEASING
He called me a few minutes later, when I was at home, wiping off the sweat and about to cook dinner.
DrunkRex “Did you get my message? I am in Milwaukee with my girlfriend…and there is a midget convention in town this weekend.”
Tucker “I got your fucking message. Come on man, stop playing.”
DrunkRex “Tucker, I am DEAD serious. They are everywhere. It’s like the circus and The Wizard of Oz are in town at the same time. I swear on my life there are hundreds of midgets here.”
[10 second pause]
Tucker “I am on the next flight.”
It took me about 40 seconds to throw clothes into a duffle bag. Another 20 seconds to sprint out the door and onto Park Avenue. I was in a cab to La Guardia within two minutes of getting the call. The TV and lights were still on in my apartment, I’d left the steak I was going to eat for dinner thawing in the sink, and I was still covered in gym sweat.
None of that mattered; I was finally going to fuck a midget.
In the cab, I was so excited I could barely breathe. I called all my best friends, screaming incoherent babbles about sex with little people. The call to Junior (from “The Vegas Story,” which is only published in I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell) was the best:
Junior “What is wrong with you? Why not just get a midget hooker and be done with it?”
Tucker “FUCK THAT. Just because you buy Dwight Gooden’s World Series ring off Ebay doesn’t mean that you were on the ’86 Mets. Some things you can only claim if you have earned them. MIDGET PUSSY, HERE I COME!!”
I was more excited about this than I was when my book hit the New York Times best seller list. I felt like a six year old on the night before Christmas.
At the airport and in line for my ticket, I am forced to fly Midwest Airlines because they are the only airline that cares enough about Milwaukee to fly there. A very nice, very Midwestern couple is in front of me. The man’s shirt has a picture of cheese on it.
Tucker “You guys going to Milwaukee?”
Guy “Yes sir, heading home after a vacation.”
Tucker “Did you know there are midgets in Milwaukee?”
The man and his wife are silent and confused.
Tucker “HUNDREDS OF THEM!”
They turn around and mumble something about crazy New Yorkers. Whatever, they’ve never fucked a midget, they don’t matter.
The flight was nearly intolerable; my mind was spinning with questions. How do you pick up a midget? Are you allowed to physically pick them up? What is the etiquette for dealing with a midget? When you hug them, can you hold them tight like a teddy bear, and promise to pet them and love them? Do they get pissed if you set your drink on top of their head? No one really talks about this.
What about their day to day lives? How do they get luggage in the overhead bin when they fly? Do they get to live in those cool apartments with the really low door handles and counters? What if a midget punches me in the nuts? Since their arms are too short to reach their crotches, how do they wipe? Or masturbate? Even more to the point, what do their pussies feel like? Are they normal sized? Can they give me head without kneeling? When she’s riding me, can I spin her like a top?
I was in Milwaukee by 10pm. My buddy SoylentGreen picked me up, and we were at the Hilton hotel bar by 11pm. I almost hyperventilated upon seeing my first gaggle of midgets. There were six of them, sitting at a table drinking just like normal people, their tiny little legs barely hanging over the seats, tiny little feet dangling like a toddler’s. Their Miller Lite bottles looked massive as they gripped them with both of their tiny little hands. Their humongous foreheads and brow ridges were raised in excitement as they laughed at a tiny little joke.
Tucker “You know CPR right? I think my heart might explode.”
Soylent “You are so fucking weird.”
Then I saw her: My MidgetPrincess. Her blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes made me think of Gwyneth Paltrow. Her missing neck and bowlegs gave me an idea what Gwyneth would look like if placed in a vise and squished to one-quarter size. As her pigeon-toed feet carried her past my table, I slid down in my chair, hoping to catch her eye. She looked at me and smiled, her mashed-up teeth sparkling in the oily light of the popcorn machine. I gave her an unmistakable “I want to fuck you” look, she shot me back a quick “My spine hurts” face, and I was smitten.
I start planning out how I am going to hit on her, but much to my dismay I find myself feeling something I haven’t felt in years: Nervousness. What the fuck? I literally can’t even remember the last time I was nervous around a girl. Is this what it’s like to be a normal guy? This sucks. Every time I tried to talk to one of the midgets I would start giggling and sweating; it was fucking ridiculous and comical at the same time. I felt like a middle schooler who’d snuck into his sister’s college party. Eventually, SoylentGreen–who thinks he’s better than me because he isn’t obsessed with fucking a midget–had to take over.
I think the midgets took a liking to Soylent because he is barely taller than they are and he looks exactly like Gimli the Dwarf from the Lord of the Rings movies. Within minutes we were sitting with the little people. My MidgetPrincess was at the table, and even though I’d only had like five beers, the room was spinning around her. I would talk, but I couldn’t hear the words coming out of my mouth. She would answer back, and it sounded like a chorus of tiny little angels. Is this what love is like? If so, I might have to try it. Then it happened:
Soylent “So, what’s up tonight at the chocolate factory? Any cool parties?”
MaleMidget “Oh dude, you should come with us upstairs. It’s the last night of the LP [Little Person] convention, there is a big dance on the 5th floor.”
Tucker “Don’t play with my emotions. If you are lying about this, I don’t think I could handle it.”
MaleMidget [looking at me like I am some sort of weirdo] “No dude. It should be fun. Everyone is up there.”
Do you know what it takes to make me speechless? For fucks sake, I had a girl tattoo “I Fucked Tucker Max” over her pussy. You could say that my sense of “Wow” is a bit numb. Knowing that, I ask you to put yourself in this situation and see what your reaction would be:
Go to a hotel. Hit the button for the elevator. Take note of the step stool below the button panel, with the note above it, “Please do not remove stool.” Ride the elevator up to the fifth floor. Walk out into the hallway, and do a double take at the FLEET of Rascal scooters in the ballroom lobby (Rascals are those red motorized scooters that you always see old people on in the grocery store). You might first think you stumbled into a geriatric convention, but you study the people on the Rascals, and realize something: None of their feet are touching the base. They are all midgets! MIDGETS ON RASCALS!!!
Reeling from this discovery, you head into the ballroom and see approximately FOUR HUNDRED MIDGETS!!! ALL OF THEM ARE DANCING TO BABY HUEY!!! AND THEY ARE POPPING AND LOCKING!
What would you do? WHAT WOULD YOU DO???
I know what I did.
I got a massive erection.
As much as I would love to tell you a really cool story about how I spent the next hour hitting on all the hot midgets, dancing with them, doing tiny little body shots off tiny little bodies, and tossing midgets all around the hotel, I can’t…because nothing like that happened. Basically, I just sat there, vacant as a lobotomy patient, staring at the midgets, in utter disbelief at the scene unfolding before me–it was complete Midget Overload. Six midgets at a table had me nearly catatonic, you can only imagine what 400 midgets popping and locking did. And when I saw the two midgets slow dancing, but the midget guy was so short that the midget girl had to kneel to dance with him…I was done.
I am honestly not sure how the next part unfolded, but I do know for damn sure I had nothing to do with it. One moment I was sitting at a table in the ballroom, staring in utter disbelief at the midget dance party in front of me, the next moment, I was part of a group walking toward the elevator. That group was me, DrunkRex, SoylentGreen, our female friend Jessie…and three midgets, one female and two male.
Tucker [whispering] “Jessie, there are three midgets with us.”
Jessie [normal voice] “I know, I invited them. I think the cute one will fuck you.”
Tucker [still whispering] “I will name all my illegitimate children after you if she does.”
The elevator ride was awesome:
Soylent [to one of the male midgets with us] “So, you like midget girls or normal girls?”
Midget “Fuck that midget shit, man. I want me a BIG girl! [pointing at Jess, who is half black, half Italian] Soylent, you think you could set me up with some black pussy?!”
Soylent “Fuck! Goddamn man, that is Afro-Italian pussy…what do you think, I’m running a midget convention whore house special? I’m not fucking her, you are welcome to knock yourself out trying fucker!”
Tucker “Hey man, can you talk to dolphins and pilot whales with that huge forehead of yours?”
DolphinMidget “Fuck you asshole! Did you come with Jessie, I’m gonna fuck her in front of you!!”
Tucker “EEK EEK EEK!! That’s dolphin for ‘I’m sorry.’ But you already knew that.”
DolphinMidget “Hey, you guys want to smoke some rock? I got a connection in Milwaukee, this taxi driver. I’m gonna call him in a minute.”
At the hotel bar Jessie starts to go to work on my MidgetPrincess. Jessie is pimping me so hard, she’s doing everything short of smacking me up for having short money. Being pimped by a girl to another girl is pretty much the optimal situation for a guy, so I did the best thing I could do: shut the fuck up, smile at the MidgetPrincess when she looked at me, buy everyone beer, and hope for the best. Guys, when you have a girl running game for you, the more you speak, the greater the chance you’ll fuck it up. Be quiet and let the girl do the work. Women trust women, not men. The less you interfere, the less game you run, the better. Sounds counterintuitive, doesn’t it? Welcome to women, enjoy your stay.
When I got beers for us all, I discovered something mildly amusing about Milwaukee. If you are ever there, order a Budweiser. Seriously, people FLIP OUT at you. I was confused at first, until it was explained to me: the city of Milwaukee is basically owned by Miller Brewing Company, and of course their big rival is Bud, presumably because they are located in St. Louis. Hey Milwaukeeans, I’m going to let you in on a little secret: Bud, MGD, Bud Light, Miller Lite–it’s all shitty beer. No one cares except fat-assed cow-town hicks, i.e., all of you. Get over it and focus on something important, like not being such fat asses.
At one point, DolphinMidget accosts Jessie when she is in the women’s bathroom.
DolphinMidget: “Hey, baby…wanna get down?”
Jessie: “Uhhh, no.”
DolphinMidget: “IT’S ‘CAUSE YOU HATE MIDGETS ISN’T IT?!”
Though she did not fuck him, Jessie found out the answer to a question we all had. She came back from the bathroom giggling:
“I just saw him pee! He pulled his junk out of his pants, and laid across the toilet sideways. It was awesome!!!”
At closing time, the whole crew–three midgets included–came back with us to Soylent’s place to party. As we crossed the street, several cars zoomed past, so I reached down to hold the hand of my MidgetPrincess, you know–because I’m a gentleman and shit.
She reaches up to grab my hand, but hers is too small to grasp mine…so instead she wrapped her entire palm and Jimmy Dean sausage fingers around just my pinky.
I’m going to pause here so the visual of me crossing the street with a hot midget holding my pinky can sink in (and yes, as soon as she did this, the image of playing with a toddler came into my sick, sick mind).
In the elevator, MidgetPrincess grabbed my butt,
MidgetPrincess “Damn, you got a fine ass.”
Tucker “I do pilates.”
MidgetPrincess “Do you really? I bet you are good in bed.”
There isn’t a better opening than that. Did I come back with a smooth line? Did I woo and charm her, sealing the deal with a suave and debonair retort?
Tucker “I wanna make a mess in yer mouth.”
That’s what I said. Don’t ask me why. I don’t know. Thankfully, she thought it was funny, because if she had been offended and left, I am pretty sure I would have slit my wrists with the closest sharp edge I could find (and for the record, I have never done pilates, I don’t know why I said that either).
We get into Soylent’s apartment, she pulls me into his bedroom, and we start fucking. See, this is why you need good friends, in fact, this should be one of the measures of how good a friendship is: Will your buddy let you fuck a midget in his bed? If the answer is yes, then you know that dude is solid.
Clothes off, I slid right in. Her pussy was not that tight, in fact, it basically felt normal. First question answered.
One of my favorite positions is me on top with the girls legs over my shoulders. I like that position because it gives my dick a more direct line of entry and, if I position my hips right, I hit the girls g-spot in the process. For the most part, I am all about myself in bed, but if everyone can win, why not go with that? Plus, when her legs are over your shoulders, you control everything that is going on, and I am a big fan of dominance.
After a few minutes of missionary, I move to throw her legs over my shoulders. Normally when I do this, the girl’s knees are over my shoulders and her lower legs are either in the air or resting on my back, depending on how I hit it. It went different with my MidgetPrincess. I grab her legs, push them up on my shoulders, but instead of having her knees next to my ears…her feet were next to my cheeks…and a few of her toes went into my mouth…yes, her legs were completely straight.
This was a bit disturbing, to say the least. About ten seconds later, she made me stop because I was hurting her. Even though her pussy is a normal width, it is much shallower than the average pussy, and with her legs on my chest (and her toes in my mouth), my dick was smashing into her cervix. Second question answered.
Only one final question: I got on bottom and had her ride me. Despite my best drunken attempt, I was not able to spin her like a top on my penis. It might have worked if my dick was longer, but alas, I am an average white guy.
She passed out when we were done, and I joined the party that was still going. Flush with excitement and pride, I triumphantly threw my hand in the air and yelled across the apartment,
“RAISE YOUR FUCKING HAND IF YOU’VE EVER FUCKED A MIDGET, BITCHES!!”
The other two midgets raised their hands. Thanks assholes.
We kept drinking and hanging out, and like an hour later DolphinMidget comes up to me and Soylent.
DolphinMidget “Hey man, can I borrow twenty bucks? That taxi driver I called is out front.”
Is a crackhead midget hitting me up for a $20? So he can smoke some rock?
DolphinMidget “I really need a hit, and I lost my wallet, man. Please.”
He is. He really is.
I truly live a blessed life.
POST SCRIPT #1: Why do I want to fuck a midget?
I should probably answer the question I have been getting more than any other since I posted this: “Why are you so obsessed with fucking a midget?” There are two reasons:
Reason 1: Novelty
At this point in my life, I have been with hundreds of girls. I was into triple digits before I put up my site four years ago (Sept 2002), and after four years at the peak of my game–with a dash of internet celebrity thrown in–I am past the point of even being able to round to the nearest hundred.
Because of this, normal sex has lost its novelty, and become almost rote to me. Don’t get me wrong, I really like women and I still really like having sex with them, but one of the main things I used to enjoy about hooking up was the challenge of the pursuit. That is pretty much gone for me now; I barely even remember the last time I had to go out in search of girls. I literally don’t have enough dick for all the pussy that gets thrown at me just through my site. When you fuck that many girls, the excitement of random sex disappears. I have to find novelty in weird places, and one of those places, for me at least, is midgets.
[Yeah, I know what you are thinking: "What asshole bitches about having TOO MUCH PUSSY? FUCK YOU!" Gentlemen, welcome to the perverse and contradictory nature of fame. Someone very famous once told me, "Tucker, celebrity is like death. You can't understand it until you get here, and once you are here, you can't explain it to anyone who isn't." Be careful what you wish for, fellas.]
Reason 2: Conquest
The search for novelty by itself doesn’t explain my pathological obsession with fucking a midget; it’s more about the sport of it. Fucking a midget is such a big deal to me because it’s basically my final sexual frontier. To understand this, you have to go back to when I was in college. One day while sitting around drunk, my friends and I started comparing sexual conquests. I thought I was pretty cool because I had hooked up with all the major races: white, black, Asian, Arabic, Indian (feather AND dot). But one of my friends trumped me. He had fucked a female Canadian bodybuilder (who could bench press more than he could). Wow. Not many people can say that. That’s fucking cool.
Intrigued with the notion that someone had done something cool that I hadn’t, the next day, I started my Sexual To Do List. It was long and ambitious, but I had confidence in my ability to conquer it (the full story of the Sexual To Do List will be in my next book, Assholes Finish First). Before this story, I had checked off dozens of categories and have basically completed the bulk of the list….except one major category: “A hot female midget.”
This four word sentence had been sitting on the top of my list for going on eight years now. As I checked more and more types of women off the list, that one remained, staring at me, always there, mocking my efforts and castigating my failures. It’s the one arena I’ve always yearned to conquer and the one that has consistently eluded me. The last meaningful box to check off my list. It’s become my white whale, and I have become Ahab in my pursuit.
You see, I have fucked an amputee and a set of twins. If you add in a midget, you are looking at a legendary trifecta. How many other people can say they have done that? Seriously, raise your hand if you even know someone who has done that. Yeah, some of you have fucked midgets. Some of you have fucked amputees. Some have even fucked a set of twins. But how many can honestly say you have done all three categories? I’m not going to say that I’m the only guy on earth who has done this, but I would bet you could fit all of us into a Prius.
Understand, it’s not about the midget. I don’t have a midget fetish. Now that I have fucked one, I could care less about fucking another one. Some things in life you want to do just so that you can say you’ve done them. Now I can say that I have fucked a midget.
POST SCRIPT #2: The odds and ends
-I don’t think I gave DolphinMidget any money when he hit me up for crack, but the next morning I was missing like $60 from my wallet. I am not going to accuse him of theft, because my wallet never left my pants and I can’t imagine midgets could be good pick-pockets, you know, with their stubby sausage fingers and all. But then again, you never know, maybe he used his massive forehead to magic the money out of my wallet and into his tiny little crack pipe. If they can’t talk to marine life with it, that thing has to serve some purpose.
-When we were at the hotel bar after the dance, there was another hot midget in a backless red top. She was sitting by herself on a bar stool, and out of nowhere, fell off. That was funny, but not nearly as funny as what happened next: She decided to get back up on the stool by herself. She literally climbed up onto the stool, and looked EXACTLY like an orangutan. It was awesome.
-Random quote from the night:
Jessie “Some of these midget dudes are ripped!”
Tucker “No, you don’t understand. They have regular sized muscles and tiny little arm bones, so they just look ripped.”
-To all Little People that want to tell me how awful I am for writing this, I look forward to reading your tiny little emails, full of tiny little rage: email@example.com
-I do have some pics of the midgets in question, but not many. There are two problems:
1. They are camera phone pics and they suck.
2. I never asked any of them if I could post the pictures, and without consent, that is not only illegal, but totally fucked up. I choose to live my life in a public manner and I can deal with the consequences, but I am not going to insert someone else into a public light without their consent (except for hypocrites who have already thrust themselves into the public light and huge douchebags who think they are already famous).
EDIT#1:-My first hate mail:
Date: Aug 10, 2006 9:46 AM
Subject: The Midget Story
You said you looked forward to “tiny little emails, full of tiny little
rage” telling you how awful you are for writing the “midget” story. Well,
I have never been one of your fans, nor will I ever be. I heard about
your “midget” story through a so-called friend who thought your story was
hilarious. Well, I read the whole thing. I read it in utter disgust. I
honestly feel sorry for you and the brain you have been dealt in life.
First of all, we “midgets” prefer to be called little people or dwarves. I
equal the word “midget” to the word “nigger”. It is offensive, and reminds
us of days when we were considered beneath other human beings.
Secondly, the ways in which you describe little people are truly revolting. How can
you rip on entire group of people who can’t help the way they are? I can’t
even begin to fathom your sick mind. Finally, I was there at the Little
People Convention in Milwuakee, and I wish that I had seen you and known
what you were doing. I guarantee that you would have been thrown out of the
Oh, by the way, in case you haven’t noticed, which I would not be
surprised, I am a little person. I graduated valedictorian in my high
school class this year, and I am majoring in film at college. I look
forward to showing you what a real little person can do in life, but I am
sure that whatever I accomplish in life, I will become more successful than
you in more ways than one.
Please write back. I would looooove to hear what you have to say.”
My response: “I would write you a response, but my computer won’t let me type in a tiny little font.”
EDIT#2: He responded with this: “Wow, is that the best you can do? I thought that would shut you up.”
And I came back with this: “Midgets get angry over the littlest things. You should work on your
EDIT#3: Another great midget hate mail:
“Message from: firstname.lastname@example.org
Did you even go to college? Let me guess some fucking cuny college right because you are too fucking stupid for any good college.
Guess what asswhole, midgets are doctors, TV executives(btw – never want any gigs from CBS- you have just been banned), and lawyers (which I am sure you will come in contact with soon!). They have better jobs than you and obviously a better education.
You are an ignorant ass who should donate his time to the military. I heard Bush needs some good bullet shields in Iraq, your background matches the job.