Guest blog: Twinning – what’s hot about becoming someone else?

Image by the always fantastic Stuart F Taylor

I confess, I had never heard of ‘twinning’ until the magic kink fairy (aka incredible guest blogger Jenby) popped up in my inbox to offer me a post about doing it with her girlfriend. These are often my favourite kinds of posts, because I fucking love learning new kink things, and understanding the various ways in which they speak to people’s sexual selves. Twinning is all about transformation – turning one person into another, via various sexy means. I’ll let Jenby herself explain in more detail, along with a super hot story about ‘becoming’ someone else…

Note that this story contains the use of ‘Mummy’ as an honorific – all participants are consenting adults.

Twinning: what’s hot about becoming someone else?

Happy Alien Day, campers! I’m a trans woman, and so in strict adherence to orthodoxy the 1979 sci-fi horror classic which we celebrate every year on the 26th April (in reference to the eponymous moon LV-426) is, obviously, my favourite film.

Disclaimer: I’m aware it’s not every trans girl’s favourite film, but it’s a deserved stereotype as I’ve never met one without a deep affinity for it. Even my Mummy, who’s a steadfast 28 Days Later devotee, still has a facehugger tattoo on her thigh.

Needless to say, spoilers ahead.

There’s a great deal in Ridley Scott’s second feature which is ripe for any monsterfucker to eroticise. Phallic imagery abounds in just about every stage of the titular alien xenomorph’s life cycle, from the facehugger’s feeding tube to the chestburster’s thrusting penile body, to big chap bringing a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘blowjob lips’.

But for my money the horniest element of all is the alien egg. Yes I’m a trans lesbian, and no, this is not a blog about oviposition. The egg is a symbol of something deeply enticing to all those of the, shall we say, ‘Lambert‘ persuasion…


Nowhere is this more apparent than in the fabled cocoon scene, a sequence only reinstated in the 2003 director’s cut but nonetheless sought out and pored over by innumerable star beast aficionados in the interim. It’s the scene that more than other gave baby Jenby uncomfortable and inexplicable feelings in the cinema on its release.


But what is it about the transmogrification of one’s entire being, both physical and mental, into that of someone or something else, that’s so dang intoxicating?

Twinning: what’s so hot about becoming someone else?

The sublimation of the self by way of another is an inherently submissive act. Consenting to body modifications of your D-type’s choosing, experiencing ego death in a hypno scene and finding your entire personality rewritten or erased and replaced with nothing but the need to serve. There’s something about it which makes my clit twitch even as I write it…

Twinning is a deeply underrated kink. It would almost be worthy of its own blog even if I hadn’t just experienced a super hot scene employing it which I’m obviously going to tell you about. It’s so hot, yet so unsung except in a few niche corners of the web.

Speaking of webs.

My girlfriend’s eyes are almost preternaturally alluring. Sometimes I burst out in fits of nervous laughter just looking at them. How easy to be drawn in by that wicked smile, to melt before those heavy, doe-like lids, to fall into them forever, perhaps literally.

Her name is Ellen (yes, after Warrant Officer Ripley), and seeing as my own name is a nod to Vasquez from 1986’s Aliens, a few years ago I struck up a conversation with her on social media, thinking our nerdy nominal connection might lead to at least (and at most) a podcast. Instead it led to this…


I was being stripped, almost roughly, by a girl who was still insisting she was vanilla.

For the week and a half we’d known each other carnally I’d been uncovering on average a kink every other day and had literally just ordered a waxplay candle at her behest, but sure, go off.

Now naked on the edge of her bed, she leaned in close to me and whispered, ‘ready to become my doll?’

I squeaked my assent. She smiled that smile again.

‘Good, let’s deconstruct the You.’

She slipped a pair of her panties up my trembling legs, and complemented them with one of her lacier bras. Next came jeans, socks and a baggy green shirt adorned with mushrooms, my usual hyper-femme aesthetic incrementally subsumed into her earthy futchness, my personality seeming to fall away piece by piece as I was dressed up, remade, authored anew by this woman whom I’d loved for all of a matter of days.

An equally baggy long sleeve shirt was placed over the first, followed by Ellen’s pendant, which she ceremoniously removed from her neck and replaced around my own. I was almost finished.

In the most memeable moment I’ve possibly ever written about, the gay bitch started to do my makeup. Blusher, mascara, a vibrant coral eyeshadow, and a streak of eyeliner which I was to learn over the coming week was virtually indestructible. It’s still going strong four days later, nigh-on impossible to shift.

Her creation complete, she brushed my hair forward and slipped her round, black-rimmed glasses over my face. My eyes blurred, then instantly readjusted, a pleasing button to the scene. As though symbolising that the changes had fully taken hold.

We both gazed at my reflection in wonder, remarking how stark a change it was and giggling that I looked like a palaeontologist of some sort, simultaneously outdoorsy and nebbish.

That was more or less expected. What I hadn’t expected was to look so goddamned hot.

I turned to Ellen with a mischievous grin plastered across my lips, and as she drew me in for a deep kiss I said what might be my smoothest line to date…

‘Hey, wanna go fuck yourself?’


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