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Tucker Max, Tucker bangs fat girl, hilarity ensues, hoggin
Tucker bangs fat girl, hilarity ensues 
by: Tucker Max

Tucker Max Home / Vices ChannelEntertainment Channel / Bullz-Eye Home

Want to read more of Tucker Max's tales of belligerence & debauchery? Visit!


We’ve all done it.

We’ve all accidentally fucked a fat girl.

You start the night with the best intentions, but somehow you end up in one of those blacked-out-where-the-fuck-are-my-pants drunk states, and wake up with some girl who is packing more ass than a Sir Mix-a-Lot video. Getting smashed and goin’ hoggin’ is almost a rite of passage for an American male. There’s no shame in that.

This being said, very few of us have fucked a fat girl on purpose.

I will be honest; I may be a member of that club. But it’s up for debate. Let me explain:

It all started in February of 2000, the month I put my website up. I was 23 years old and in my second year of law school. The page originally started as a Date Application Page that I put up to settle a bet. My friends thought the page was hilarious, but wanted to see some results:

PWJ “Tucker, the site is awesome, but you need to actually meet a girl through it.”
Tucker “I don’t know.”
JoJo “You have to. You have to jump on at least one grenade.”
Hate “Max! How could you put that site up and not hook up with at least one girl through it? That’s weak.”
Tucker “I don’t know; there have been some crazies emailing me.”
Hate “When has that stopped you in the past?”
SlingBlade “This is opposed to the crazies that you pick up in bars?”
PWJ “Dude, you can’t put this thing up and never go on a date or hook up from it. You have to. At least one girl.”
Tucker “Fine. Might as well. What’s the worst that could happen??”
Hate “OH YEAH! That line of thought always does well for you Max!”

I ended up not only promising my friends that I’d go out on a date with a girl I met through the site, I promised that I’d do my very best to hook up with one.

So of course, as soon as I make this promise, I get no applications from any girls near the Durham, NC area. I know this sounds ridiculous now, as I get daily propositions from girls, but you have to remember that back when the site started it was almost totally unknown outside my circle of friends. It got maybe 30 visitors a day. There were only like three of my stories up, and the notion that this site would become anything beyond a silly joke never even crossed my mind. If you had told me then that within two years this thing was going to be getting a hundred thousand visitors a month and would become my launching pad to fame, I would have laughed at you and told you to stop sucking the glass dick.

One week went by, nothing. Two weeks, nothing. I was starting to get a little desperate, thinking about all the shit I was going to have to eat from my friends because I couldn’t even get a date off my own Date Application Page, when finally a girl emailed me. She had just moved to Raleigh for a job, knew no one, and thought I was funny. We emailed a little and she seemed cool and normal, enough, but I had to make a couple requests before she sent me a picture of her. Once I got the pic it was clear why it took her three emails to work up the courage to send one.

Ladies and gentlemen: She’s a fatty.

Normally, this would have been an easy decision. I’d just say “Get the fuck away from me and go back to your trough,” and everything would be fine, but this time it was different. I had PROMISED my friends that I would hook up with a girl from my webpage, and Fat Girl was my only option.

I put her off for a few weeks with cutesy email banter, while I prayed for a girl without an oversized heart to email me.

One week…two weeks…nothing. Finally, I consulted my friends on what I should do. I showed them the picture:

JoJo “You gotta take one for the team.”
PWJ “Yeah, you did promise. She might be your only chance.”
SlingBlade “Just make sure you take her to a bar that doesn’t serve food. You can’t afford that kind of date.”
El Bingeroso “Wow. Yeah man, that sucks. Wow…but you did promise.”

After some deliberation, I decided to meet Fat Girl out. It still makes me laugh to this day, but I legitimately thought that this would be my only shot at hooking up with a girl through my website, and I didn’t want to blow it. Even if it meant I had to go pork diving.

I justified it as such:

Tucker “Well…maybe she’s lost weight. She said it wasn’t a good picture.”
SlingBlade “Lost weight? What, you think she caught that mysterious rubella epidemic sweeping the Carolinas? When was the last time a girl was better looking than her INTERNET DATING PICTURE?”
Tucker “Well, she does have a cute face. You can’t fake that.”
El Bingeroso “This is not going to end well.”
Hate “Max, just when I think you’ve tapped out, you find a whole new way to fuck up!”
Tucker “Fuck you. I hope all of your children have birth defects.”

I agreed to meet Fat Girl at a bar in Durham, The James Joyce. I flatly refused to tell any of my friends where we were meeting, and made them promise not to come looking for me, in case she turned out to be morbidly obese, as opposed to just normal fat, like in her picture. Like an IDIOT, I didn’t think about extracting promises for what would happen after the date. A rookie mistake that will haunt me my entire life.

Fat Girl was there when I got there, and looked pretty much exactly like she did in the picture--fat. We started talking over beer, and she was a very sweet girl just like in her emails. It quickly became obvious that she was very much into me, and after about three beers she really started loosening up. The turning point in the conversation was this:

Fat Girl [with a seductive, portly, dimpled look] “Tucker, are you a player?”
Tucker “Uh, no…I mean, not in the way you are thinking. A player is someone who is only out to have sex for the sake of sex, and will do or say anything to hook up. Yeah, I mean, I like sex, but I won’t do anything to hook up with a girl. Well…normally, at least.”
Fat Girl [Still with the seductive, portly, dimpled look] “I think you’re a player Tucker Max…but I’m not going to sleep with you.”

Well, this one is locked up. The night is obviously going to end in sex if I want it, but I still had to decide: Do I bail on this date, avoid the ignominy of having sex with Miss Piggy and pray that another girl emails me for a date, or do I just suck it up, take the opportunity in front of me and fulfill the promise to my friends? I went back and forth on this in my mind.

Good Tucker "She has a really cute face.”
Bad Tucker "She is fat.”
Good Tucker "Well, she isn’t disgustingly obese. She’s only like 30…40..ish…pounds overweight.”
Bad Tucker "What does that mean? She’s fat.”
Good Tucker "But I promised my friends, and this might be my ONLY CHANCE to hook up through the site.”
Bad Tucker "Right--but SHE’S STILL FAT.”

I decided to end the debate by moving my army across the Rubicon: “Bartender, get me a shot.”

And then I burned the bridges behind me: “Make it cheap tequila. With a beer back.”

Yes, I know that fucking fat girls is against the rules for any self-respecting guy, but the rules have a loophole. That loophole is called alcohol. God bless it.

With each tequila shot and beer combo, she lost weight, and her face, which was previously only cute, became sorta hot. The night started improving.

Then it went to shit.

I chose the James Joyce because I knew none of my friends would be there that night, as on Wednesdays they always went to the same bar in Chapel Hill. But there are more people that drink in Duke Law School besides my friends. Namely, two loud-mouthed gossiping bitches in my class, Carry and Amy, who were at the Joyce that night.

I tired to hide when I saw them walk in, but it was no use, their scandal radar was too sensitive. They immediately spot me and give a “Hey Tucker,” before Carry notices the land beast I am with. I wish I had a picture of the look on her face. Complete and utter confusion, with a hint of disgust and twinge of contempt. Had it been someone else with the fat girl, I would have laughed.

In no mood to deal with this, I quickly shuttle Fat Girl away from them, and we eventually end up back at my place (I knew my roommates, Hate and Credit, would still be out drinking). Fat Girl and I have sex, and both pass out afterwards, even though it was only about 11. I’m not sure if it was the alcohol, the fumes or the PTSD that put me out. Probably some happy combination of all three.

The gods of alcohol often entertain themselves at my expense, but sometimes they throw me a bone. Waking me out of an alcoholic stupor normally requires nothing short of ice water and a fog horn, but somehow I awoke in time to hear Credit and Hate slowly opening the front door to our apartment while creeping towards my door and conspiratorially whispering to themselves. I sprung out of bed, dove at the door and locked it just in time to prevent them from charging in.

Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do about their yelling and banging on the walls:

Credit “Tell her I have a cheeseburger!”
Credit “Here fatty fatty! Here fatty!”

Of course, I couldn’t help but laugh. That shit is funny. But it wasn’t the best part:

Fat Girl “What are they talking about? Should we go out there?”
Tucker “Uh, no.”

Great. Now how do I get her out of here without my roommates meeting her?

Tucker “So…do you just want to spend the night? It’s already like midnight.”
Fat Girl “I would love to, but I can’t. I have to go to work tomorrow, and I can’t leave from here for work. In fact I need to get going real soon.”
Tucker “Let’s just wait a minute before you go.”

Hate and Credit eventually settled down in the living room to watch TV, and I devised a plan. Since the door to my room faces the front door to the apartment, I didn’t need to move Fat Girl through the living room to get her out of the apartment. I could just rush her from my room out the front door and to her car, which thankfully she drove.

Tucker “Alright, you put your clothes on and then we need to get you out of the apartment.”
Fat Girl “Get me out? What about your friends? Don’t they want to meet me?”
Tucker “Trust me, you don’t want to meet my friends. They are bad. Rapists and murderers, the lot of them. Very unsavory characters.”
Fat Girl “No, I want to meet them. They sound fun.”
Tucker “This is not an option.”
Fat Girl “Tucker, you are not hustling me out of here like some prostitute.”
Tucker “Fine, but meeting my roommates is not an option.”
Fat Girl “But Tucker, I want to meet your roommates. Hold on, let me pee and then I’ll put my clothes on and go out and meet them.”

I had a horrific tequila headache and was in no mood for this shit. Does this girl not know who she’s dealing with? Bitch, I don’t care if you think your pocket Jacks are good, I’m calling your bluff and going all in.

I considered my options for a second, then very calmly opened the window in my room and heaved all her clothes out into the yard.

She was confused when she came out of the bathroom.

Fat Girl “Where are my clothes?”
Tucker [As I pointed out my open window] “If you want to meet my friends, you are going to do it naked.”

Talk about a priceless facial expression.

Tucker “You can either go out the window after your clothes, or you can run out the front door and go get them. It’s dark out. No one will see you.”

She stood there in shock for a good ten seconds. Not about to lose my momentum, I quietly opened the door to my room and pointed to the front door. She looked out the window, and even though I am on the first floor, I guess she didn’t like the idea of going through a window to get her clothes, so she jogged, lumbered, whatever, to the front door, opened it and ran out. I followed her and locked the door behind her.

Problem solved.

As I nonchalantly sat down in the living room, my roommates kinda stared at me in a surprised what-the-fuck manner, then they got up and went into my room.

Hate “Max, where is she?”
Tucker "She's gone.”
Hate " is she?”
Tucker “I hustled her right the fuck out. I’m not about to let you jackals see her.”
Credit “I wondered what that stampede sound was.”


I tell this story a lot, and people, girls especially, often ask me if regret what I did. Well, first they get real mad at me and pretend to be offended, but then they ask me if I regret it. In a way I do; I mean, it was kinda mean. But I was only like 23 when it happened; what do you expect from me? Compassion? Caring? Should I have just invited her out to meet my friends and stay for a night cap? Yeah, I guess that’s what most guys would have done. And that’s why most guys are hard-up schmucks who couldn’t get laid in a monkey whorehouse with a bag of bananas.

What really cracks me up is when girls ask me if I’d do something like this again. Of course I wouldn’t. I already fucked the fat girl once, why would I do it again? That’s a stupid question.

I found out later that Credit and Hate came home early that night because they saw Carry and Amy out, and those two bitches told them I was home with Fat Girl. The next day at law school was quite fun.

SlingBlade "Wait--you threw her clothes OUT your window? HAHHAHAHAHA. That is awesome. She must have been huge.”
Tucker "No, she wasn’t that fat. Just overweight.”
Credit "I don’t know Max. I thought we had rhinos in our apartment last night.”
PWJ "It was that bad?”
Hate "The floor boards were heaving and moaning.”
Credit "I think she drove off in a cattle car.”
Tucker "Whatever. As far as I am concerned, this never happened. If your friends didn’t see you, it doesn’t count. I’m invoking that rule to get out of this.”
JoJo "Then you haven’t hooked up with a girl from the website.”
PWJ "Carry and Amy saw you.”

I hate having smart friends. I guess that ends the debate. I fucked a fat girl on purpose.

Well that’s just great!

To get in touch with Tucker, visit!


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