Fantasy is just as likely to sing a Whitney Houston cover as s/z/he is to scream "Suckmahdiiiick!" Yes, he is the local bon vivant with the bon mots. Birthed in the self-styled swagger of Downtown karaoke halls, dirty dance nights, and more recently, his very own "Show & Tell" nights at Cheer Up Charlies (think Skillshare on a small scale), this troubadour's vocal diphthongs (and we assume, very real thongs) are clarion canary calls to the queerest of the queer. Wanna show off your crocheted vag? No probs. Or learn how to tie a scarf multiple ways? Sure. Who is Fantasy? No, sweetums, the question is what is Fantasy? Whispered and revered, Fantasy is gender thrown into a Crock-Pot, slow-cooked and melted down - a casserole of costumery. Most sundaes are topped with a cherry, but this freaky treat is topped with the white-powdered mop of a London barrister or any one of his multicolored man merkins. Suck my D, indeed.
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