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On this episode of Risk.
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You'll hear the angriest nurses would give me enemas.
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And you'll hear showing off my little dick for the first time.
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And me, Kevin Allison on the show where people tell true stories they never thought they'd dare to.
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Risk.
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Hey Sal.
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Hank, what's going on?
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We haven't worked a case in years. I just bought my car at Carvana and it was so easy. Too easy.
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C
Think something's up?
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You tell me. They got thousands of options, found a great car at a great price.
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E
Uh huh.
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And it got delivered the next day.
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It sounds like Carvana just makes it
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easy to buy your car, Hank. Yeah, you're right. Case closed.
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Buy your car today on Carvana.
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Delivery fees may apply.
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This episode is brought to you by Athletic Brewing Co. No matter how you do game day, on the couch, in the crowd or manning the snack table, Athletic Brewing fits right in with a full lineup of non alcoholic beer styles. You can enjoy bold flavors all game long. No hangovers, no buzz, no subbing out for water in the second half. Stock the fridge for tip off with a variety of non alcoholic craft styles. Available at your local grocery store or online at athleticbrewing.com near Beer Fit for all times.
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A
All right folks, this is Dan Z. Tune behind me now and we are calling this episode Metamorphosis. Let's start with an especially revealing story by our great friend, Michael McFadden. It's a story we call growth.
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I come up for air, but I don't see anyone around me. There's no other swimmers in the other lanes. And seven year old me starts to panic. Did I fall start? Did I do something wrong? Is something what happened? So I look over to the deck and I see my coach windmilling his arm frantically towards the end of the pool. And okay, I look back behind me and I see the rest of the kids just struggling, flailing in the water. Oh, oh, oh, I'm ahead. Okay, so I just start swimming again and I finish the end of the pool. By the end of that meet, multiple coaches told my parents that I was on track to be one of the fastest swimmers of all time. You know, I know now that they weren't kidding, since the people that I trained with and raced against for the rest of my youth are now the fastest swimmers of all time. This was what I started calling my Ferdinand the Bull moment. If you're not familiar, this was a kid's story from about 100 years ago that I didn't even know until I was an adult. But it's a story of this young little bull who just happened to be really big. And he goes and sits under the tree and plays in the field and he accidentally sits on a bee one day, and then he gets nervous and runs around and the farmers think that he is this big, strong, angry bull and perfect for bull fighting. And like Ferdinand, since I was this happy kid who loved being in the water, I just happened to be really big for my age. So from that moment on, I was given a special schedule and diet and treatment and different schooling. And I traveled for most of the year while I trained with these famous coaches in these private swimming leagues. And that was my youth. You know, back then, I didn't think much about the family trips and the socializing that I was missing out on. I was all focused on getting to do my favorite thing for practically my whole life. You know, it's funny, as an adult, I've worked with a few former child actors, and there is a lot of similarities. As an athlete from a ground floor, my toughest choices were whether I wanted to be a Longhorn or a gator. Those, by the way, they were the best sort of Division 1 swimming schools at the time. So my parents were aiming higher than the Penn State that even they went to. So, yeah, those are my tough choices. It was either that or maybe what kind of pasta I wanted for carbo loading before a race. So those are my hard choices. But well above me, there was plenty of drama and discussions that I was ultimately shielded from, whether it was like an overbearing coach or predatory trainers or decisions of my parents or where I was going to go. Maybe, you know, private school recruitment even happened. I remember once teammate of mine, Ryan Lochte up and moved to Florida without any fanfare. Of course, this barely registered as a kid since none of us were publicly famous yet. But part of that life was understanding that you eventually would outclass your friends and just move on and move up. It was basically athletic showbiz anyway. This is all to say that from the outside and with my peers, I was revered, even though I started to realize that I was a bit different underneath. See, I was this my adult size by age 12, I'm almost 6ft tall and 250 pounds. And as much as I wanted to fit in, they didn't make Jenko jeans in a size 40 or 80 Airwalk sneakers in a size 15. Actually, my feet in particular were part of their athletic prophecy. I was getting the, you know what they say about big feet long before I even knew what they meant. Of course, now that I'm also in the locker room with these older boys, I started to notice that not only did that joke not apply, but my penis wasn't growing like the rest of me was. My penis was still child sized. And then the thought that I had to spend now every day in a Speedo started to make me unbearably self conscious. So pretty much every day, for hours a day, I would go and swim and think about it and then go and change last. And in the corner in the locker room, I would wear extra layers on purpose. Or I put a towel around my waist the same way that they would depict, you know, flat Chester girls in movies. The few times that other swimmers would get a glimpse of the grapes I was smuggling, it was more of a confusion than ridicule. It's like, huh, on top of all this, I came from a heavily Catholic family and this was in the 90s, before the Internet and where terms like micropenis or grower not a shower were even circulated. So I resorted to asking the few trustable boys about it. You know, the things you learn in the back of the class. And one time during the sleepover, it turns into a show and tell and wouldn't you know it, there it goes. No, it's. I know what you're thinking, but, like, something's happening down there, I guess, you know, it's happening yeah, it started with an innocent question about me being a big kid. You know, the other kid says, hey, do fat guys have fat penises? This is a real question for 12 year olds, apparently. And I think the excitement was mostly from knowing that my penis could look kind of normal when it was hard because things started happening down there and, you know, other boys ones kind of like pointed up or maybe to the side a bit. And I thought like, oh man, maybe everyone's is a little different. And this was finally a glimpse into puberty and latent bisexuality. You know, again, for any fully straight guys listening, I really suggest giving it a try because for me this was the first time and it's still kind of the only time when I don't need a prologue of context before showing off my little dick for the first time. So this all happens. And around age 12, I now have this jacked up, hormone filled body that I think nobody wants. And I'm desperate to find ways for it to grow like the rest of me is. So I have this training mindset. So I'm like stretching it and masturbating and tying things to it and like trying to like rub against stuff just to get something happening there, because I heard it. I once even tried that thing with the peanut butter and the dog. Unfortunately, I was interrupted by my dad stepping out to the garage for a cigarette. His initial reaction could only really be described by like a, like a Hank Hill style, like, but nothing outside of that. This was like the shame cherry on top of my banana split sundae or plantain split sundae. That's another one I get. So he never bothered to ask why, let alone talk about my body or sex at all. In the pantheon of TV dads, his only reaction as a teen was more like Logan Roy, or maybe Red Foreman. You know, whenever they're worried about their kid, the only thing he really did was overcompensate. He started taking me to rock concerts and he got me into camping and he rented me porkies. He once snuck me into Rocky Horror. And I'm realizing now that these are all things that he did as a teen in the seventies, which I guess, you know, it's an effort, but I also know that he kind of took every chance he could to, like, ogle the young girls. Meanwhile, I was more mystified by the people of all shapes and sizes just kind of, you know, out there doing their thing, being themselves. So in an effort to eventually suppress his quiet panic over the idea that he may have fathered a pervert, I did eventually find a girl who would kiss me, even if she was quite literally half my size. And a long overdue apology, by the way, to Karen and her very worried parents. I know this appeased my dad because years later, my mother confessed to me that she overheard my dad tell Karen's dad that I would, quote, split her in two. I was 13, barely into middle school, mind you, but this had sort of reaffirmed myself as his progeny. I was the result of their dream, their athletic dream, by the way. Speaking of, now it's middle school, and it is time to send young Ferdinand here off to the bullfighting ring that is school sports. Except my matador was called the Tanner Scale. See, if you're in middle school and you want to move up to varsity, you have to pass two tests, Physical fitness and physical maturity. Physical fitness is all, you know, running, jumping, climbing, tree stuff. But physical maturity is represented by this archaic, basic looking illustrated little chart. And there's little five little pictograms on it. And it kind of looks like an IKEA man's crotch. Just a very crude cave painting. And they're labeled 1 to 5. Now my mom wasn't exactly clear about it, and of course my dad didn't talk about it, but in order to compete with the older kids, you had to have at least a 3 or higher to pass. So I'm looking at this thing in front of me, and one basically looks like a, like a Renaissance cherub. And in the middle three is kind of like an eroded Greek statue. Like, you see there's something going on there, right? It's just something's happening. And five is basically John Holmes. That is the Tanner scale. So I've been training for years by now, and this is the one test that I can't actually prepare for. And I'm looking down at myself privately after I look at that paper, and even the few wispy pubes that I had were a faint orange. I mean, I can barely tell that they're there even when I go to the beach. Now, as an adult, I don't look hairy. I just look blurry. So testing day comes. Physical tests, no sweat. Then they walk me down the hall to the nurse's office while I wait for the one doctor that circulates the schools to show up. Okay, now's the time, little dick. You gotta give me something here. Plus, you know, I just spent 20 minutes in the cold pool with my balls basically self tucking. So I start rubbing myself like, like a genie lamp, like wishing for a half Chub something. Come on. Wait, wait. No, no. If I get caught now, I'm gonna be labeled a pervert forever. Fucking. And then in comes the doctor. This shambling aged man kind of creeps up and he says, okay, Michael, this won't take long. I just need to inspect your bathing suit area. God, of all the things. Okay, yeah, down the underwear goes. I'm suppressing my panic, also trying to gauge his assessment, you know, like maybe like a painter at their first exhibit. And he keeps looking up and down, confused at me and then down at his chart and kind of gets, excuse me, I just need to get a little closer. And he just wheels in his doctor's chair. Now he's inches away and he pushes his glasses up. Okay, he just leaves the room. I got a two, which is a failure. And in the same breath that I was eventually told this by my mom, I was also told the school was going to contest it. See, not only was I faster than most of the seniors in my high school, but other parents had protested against me facing off against their kids in sports, even other sports, just because of my size. Hell, I even had to wrestle my gym teacher when it came time in gym class because they thought I would hurt other kids. After a couple weeks of limbo and consoling for my mom, and of course, continued denial from my dad, the school convinced the state to make an exception. The test was never disclosed publicly. Again, these were top floor decisions, you know, they were made for me, not necessarily by me. And though it was a big relief at the time, this was not the end of me being betrayed by my body. All that prowess and attention. It was all over before I even left high school. Me and my Irish curse down there, we were just a fluke. See, everybody else kept growing into my high school years and they got faster and faster while I was fighting for years just to shave a few seconds off of a race. Also, swimming isn't really a contact sport, so my only competition is myself. You know, it's athletic masturbation. Competing now felt like a grown up Disney kid kind of being rushed out on stage and goaded into saying their old catchphrases. I was a has been. At 18 years old, the final nail in the coffin was my school replacing one of my retired coaches with a recent college grad who I used to race against. I found myself utterly rejected by what I thought was going to be my life's purpose. And just like Ferdinand, I was cast out of the arena when they found out he was no good, put out to pasture, just like Ferdinand. I was depressed and reckless and I started smoking and I barely graduated. I wish I'd read that story when I was a kid. It was, after all, a death of a life. My parents and I were promised. No gator, no Longhorn, not even a Penn State. My only parting gifts were a box of now useless metals and an addiction to carbs through a decade of metaphorical floundering. Of course, I could still swim. I didn't. I stopped. But over that decade, I do have to give some credit to the Tanner Scale. Not for what it is. It's fucking awful. And it does still exist, by the way. They still use it in schools, but not for that, but because it allowed me to use that as a signifier for superficial standards. So eventually I began to ignore the judgmental people and the size queens and even partners who would kind of resort to ridicule because they think, like, it's an easy target, small target, but an easy target. Or they think it's low hanging fruit. Or I should say, not so low hanging fruit. Seriously, I have heard them all by now. One person even said that they felt like a pedophile when I wasn't hard. And I think, man, if I hadn't gone through that earlier, how much more devastating that would have been as an adult. But no, instead I gravitated towards things like Rocky Horror. Like, I went back there as an adult and it was amazing.
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And.
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And I started getting involved in that, and burlesque and this whole new queer community who couldn't care less about what's in my Speedos. The greatest of all ironies. I found this deep kinship with trans people. I realized that they fully accept that their body does not define them, if I might borrow their term. I consider myself lucky that I transitioned out of that swimming life when I did, when I was younger. There's another high school teammate of mine. He had a nervous breakdown before a race and he spent years in treatment. Others who made it further into college and Olympics were less lucky. Of course. Peers of mine like Ryan Lockey and Michael Phelps, they both suffered very publicly. It took over two decades, but I can actually enjoy swimming again. I even wear Speedos. I am not ashamed of my body now. So much so that I'm able to tell my friends, and now all of you, all about my little dick. And that, I suppose, is real growth.
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There's a world where legends race across city skylines. Romance blossoms in glittering ballrooms, and there's magic around every corner. It's a world known to many as Great Britain. You've seen the action on screen. Now visit the real star of the show. Visit Great Britain. To discover more, go to tripadvisor.com Great
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B
Britain it is not hard to destroy a college. Last season the podcast Campus Files brought you stories of fraternity drug rings, stolen body parts, campus cults, and more.
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And now Campus Files is back for another season. There's a guy screaming into his phone. He's like, I just saw Charlie Kirk get assassinated right in front of me. Every week is a new episode and a new story. It was so chaotic.
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It's almost like a university under siege. Listen to and follow Campus Files available
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now wherever you get your podcasts.
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A
This is Risk. This is Family Kush behind me now. And we just heard from Michael McFadden with a story coached by David Crabb, edited by Hope Brush. And Michael wanted to thank our coach Brad Lawrence and our editor John Lasalla for their support and encouragement along the way too. You can find Michael on Instagram shotgunmikey. Now, we all first met Michael as an audience member at a Risk live show at Caveat in New York City. Those live shows feature several curated stories, but also audience members can fill out little pitch cards. And after the intermission we might pick anywhere from one to three audience members to share five minute long stories based on the pitches that we liked Most. And on March 17, the the theme of the night is Bold Choices. So we have a great cast and great stories and you might just have a little five minute story to share about a bold choice you remember from your own experiences. And then we'd meet you the same way we met Michael. Tickets are at risk-show.com live folks, you might already know Risk is very expensive to make and barely breaking even these days. So we would so greatly appreciate it if you considered joining our Patreon. One of our patrons, Jacob, sent us this note with their donation. Listening to this podcast has greatly helped me accept certain parts of myself that I used to feel shame for. Thank you. Thank you so much Jacob. And there's so many perks@patreon.com risk if you're already a patron, you might consider moving to a higher tier. Or you can send us a one time donation at PayPal. Me riskshow. Next up, a story from Adrian Frost. This story does include mention of sexual abuse and self harm. It was recorded at a Story Collider show from December of 2025. Here's Adrian now with a story we call Smoochin and Fiddling.
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Thank you.
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Hi.
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Okay, back in the Day in my teenage years, back when we had landlines and horse drawn buggies a long time ago, I was considered what most of us would think of as beautiful. I was tiny and my waist dipped into my little hourglass figure and my brass defied gravity. And I clear, clear skin and my hazel eyes pierced through a man's soul. And I didn't wear glasses and I had my dimples and my smile lit up a room and my teeth were white and I hadn't been smoking for years and years and I was just gorgeous. And I also was very. A little bit weird, a little bit wild for Lafayette, Louisiana also, as was a sometimes southern Louisiana tradition, I was being sexually abused by relatives because I was such a pretty girl, according to my great uncle and cousin who tag teamed from the time I was 3 to 6 years old. So I came to equate beauty with sexuality. When I was 13, I was diagnosed with endometriosis, which means that the lining of my uterus bled through the walls and hung onto my ovaries like a spider web. It also created, I think the technical term is a shit ton of pain. And I ended up in the hospital for a long, long time, just all the time with, like, surgeries and UTIs and pelvic infections and like, the angriest nurses would give me enemas and catheters all the time. And every time they had to prep me for surgery, shave my vagina and leave like a goatee, like Maynard G. Krebs with a single blade razor. And the surgeries were always like, it was before they did, like little laparoscopic. It was always like these big cuts everywhere. And all of the surgeons in Louisiana thought that they could fix me. And they got all these crazy ideas. They were like, no, no, we're gonna. Your uterus is tilting back towards your spine. We're gonna cut these things and make a cradle and tilt it back this way and. Oh, no, no, no, no. The nerves are sending pain signals to your brain. We're gonna cut the nerves, do the pain. Oh, you're not having pain anymore. You just need this drug and you need this injection. And none of it worked. None of it worked. I was still in pain all the time. And I guess my uterus was just desperate or lonely to be with my ovaries. I don't know. But I get it. I get desperation, I get loneliness. Because despite having tons of pain and the crying and the bleeding and all of the surgeries, I kept having sex. Painful, painful, painful sex. Because I equated sex with value. It started when I was 13, another Louisiana tradition. Robert told me that I was beautiful in my Lynyrd Skynyrd old time rock and roll T shirt and my tight Levi's. He was 19 and I was 13. And we did it in the back of his orange Datsun 210. Yeah, thanks for the shout out back there. And so after that, I just. I needed sex in my life. It made me valuable. So I continued in my teens, just going through guys, guys after guys after guys, giving them what they needed. They were making me feel complete. And God forbid we should have a relationship, because if you fell in love with me, what the fuck was wrong with you? And if I fell in love with you, iceberg right ahead. Because if I let my guard down, that guard included abuse, ptsd, crying, screaming, suicidal thoughts, cutting, drinking, using. Help me. So later, in my 20s, I was using a wheelchair and a cane to walk because the pain had gotten so, so, so bad. And I found an OB GYN in New Orleans who was like the Jesus obgyn. And he said that he could fix me, and he said that I had adenomyosis, which meant that the lining of the uterus had thickened, and then that the endo had apparently gone kondo and had moved to my bladder and my sciatica and my colon and just kind of had gotten everywhere. And he was going the uterus and the cervix and try to save one or more ovaries. And I just smiled and I said, cut me open like a watermelon, as long as you can save me. Hallelujah. So he did, and he saved one ovary. And as I was resting in my mother's big, soft, gray recliner, I couldn't have sex anymore. I wasn't mobile. I couldn't do much but watch TV and eat Cajun food. And I discovered something to replace sex. And that was peanut butter mms. Bag after bag after bag after bag. And my worst fear came true. And that was that I began to gain weight. And suddenly, I was no longer a lead actress. I was a character actress. I wasn't Kate in Taming of the Shrew. I was Caliban in the Tempest. And I didn't know how to deal with that. I didn't know what to offer to anyone except myself. Oh, my God. Fuck, no. I wasn't going to use my personality for anything. I hated myself. And so once I was well, I packed up everything and decided to move to New York to try to become a professional actor and writer. I flew to New York in September of 1994. And the first night I was there, I was staying with a friend who had met about a year ago during an improv workshop. I'll call him Watercolor Man. Because we would write letters to each other, and I would write little poems in my letters, and he would draw these little watercolor pictures of cartoon characters. And I just knew I was gonna seduce him. The night that I got there. I was just staying one night till I moved in with some friends. And so he didn't see it that way at all. He didn't see me that way. And so I was trying to seduce him after a wonderful evening, and he was like, no. And I thought, this is because I've gained so much weight. I'm horrible. I'm hideous. I'm ugly. And so I pushed myself on him. No. I tried to kiss him. No. I tried to touch his penis. No. I kept pushing and pushing and pushing. And I finally said, well, you know what? You could fuck my tits. And he did score, right? I mean, like, that's marriage material, right? So after he went to bed, I went in the bathroom and I found a Bic razor, and I just started making little cuts on my arms because I was so embarrassed and so disgusted with myself. And then I woke him up so I could show him. Just so I could explain to him and just show him how much. How much I hurt, because I couldn't tell him. I couldn't tell him that I wasn't enough. I just wanted to show him I wasn't enough. I never heard from him again. And then over the next couple of years, I made out with a couple of guys. I slept with a couple of guys. I was working as an actor and working as a writer. All my friends would say, you're so awesome. You're so great. And I wanted to tell them, no, I'm not. I'm a piece of shit. Look how fat I am. Look how much pain I am. You don't even know the real me. I'm angry. I'm horrible. I'm bad. I'm terrible. They didn't know, but they weren't wrong about me. I was wrong about me. And then I got married. And then another surgery took my ovary, and I was in menopause by the time I was 30. I started going to therapy. Thank God my marriage broke up after 10 years. And then I lost £40, and I was in my 30s. And I went on the dating apps, which I had never done before, and I started having sex for Reals. And I really liked it. What? Huzzah. I started having a really good time having sex. And then I met Kai. And Kai was just this really nice guy. And he took my hand the first time we met, and that was, like, nice. And we went to his apartment and I put my head in his lap, and we started talking about, like, acting and movies and Monty Python. And we turned out to just be these two weirdos who liked each other, like, for reals. And eventually we moved in together and we became domestic partners and adopted a crazy dog. And then the pain came back because of adhesions and scar tissue. And I had another surgery which knocked it up to 14. And Kai stayed. He loved me, and he hugged me and kissed me and was just the same. And we've been together 18 years now. So here I am. I'm 57. I still have some pelvic pain. Sometimes I am completely menopausal. We don't have intercourse that much because of the menopause, because of the pelvic pain. But we do what I call a lot of smooching and fiddling. Kind of like the Grand Ole Opry. We give Dollywood a run for its money with the smooching and the fiddling. I would love to say that I wake up every morning and I go, you are the most beautiful thing in the world. You are amazing. But that's bullshit, because I don't. I still struggle with my weight. I still struggle with my self esteem. But I know one thing. I get on the bus and I tell the bus driver, how are you today? I smile at people on the street that I don't think will stab me. I send sympathy cards. I send thank you cards and get well cards and Christmas cards. I adopt adoptable dogs. I buy coffee for people behind me. Sometimes I say please and thank you. I talk to people in the elevator who have their fucking pods in. I say, hi, how are you?
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What?
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B
I go, hi, how are you? Have a good day. I hold doors for people. I love the way my husband hands feels for real. We were dancing this morning in the kitchen, and there was no music playing. And I know that I'm good. No matter what happened to me and no matter how much pain I'm in, I'm good. We are all, all of us. No matter what happened and no matter how much pain we're in, we are all good. Thank.
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G
You. Fiddler Joe from Kokomo took lessons on a piccolo. But after seven years or so, he could play a violin beneath his whiskered chin he tucked his violin and when you least expected Fiddler Joseph would begin on his fit fit fit fit fit fit fiddle dee dee he played this melody as plain as flame foot be now he might have played his tune on a harp or a bassoon but he played it on his fit fit fiddle dee this is Risk.
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A
This is Walter Burkhardt behind me now, and we just heard from Adrian Frost. That story was recorded at the Story Collider, a show we've been friends with since the beginning of both of our shows. Brad Lawrence and Aaron Barker coached the stories that night. Adrienne created her own storytelling show called New Tricks Stories, where all the storytellers are over 40, and her book I Hate Other People's Kids from Simon and Schuster is a big hit. You can find her online@adrianfrost.net don't forget, risk is live at Caveat in New York on March 17th. Tickets are at risk-show.com live and my next online storytelling workshop starts on April 8th at 8:30pm Eastern Time. You can email me at kevinrisk-show.com to learn more about that. I had the most wonderful time sharing a story at Bangkok Stories at the Garage Burger and Grill last Saturday. People came up afterwards saying they'd never seen a storytelling show before and were so excited to learn more about all of this. So if you live in Bangkok, or if you know someone who lives in Bangkok, tell them. Anyone who's interested in learning about live storytelling shows in person or online storytelling workshops, and even social events that incorporate storytelling activities that are very low pressure, easy and fun. Email me at kevinrisk-show.com thank you so much everyone. Today's episode was directed by Hope Brush and produced by John La Sala. Folks, today's the day.
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Take a risk Fiddle dee fiddle dee Allah Fiddle fiddle fiddle fiddle fiddle fiddle fiddle dee dee he played this melody as plain as flames could be. Now he might have played the same but he played it on his fiddle fiddle fiddle Dead.