Technology has become a game-changer when it comes to the male sex toy market. Photo / Getty Images
WARNING: This story contains sexual content and is suitable for adults only
Greg Bruce is an award-winning senior multimedia journalist for the NZ Herald and writes features, profiles, reviews and essays on a range of subjects.
OPINION
If you haven’t been shopping for a male sex toy lately, prepare to have your mind blown.
Where not so long ago men wanting to experiment with sex toys were forced to choose between a blow-up doll and a sock filled with Vaseline, suddenly the market is booming with strange-looking devices that can do astonishing and frightening-sounding things to your penis, perineum, glans, frenulum, scrotum, testes, and prostate.
These devices can warm, vibrate, thump and pulse, they can sync with movies, music and games, they can do physically improbable things with air pressure. They are made of space-age lifelike materials, can be textured, ribbed, squeezable, flexible and rinsable, and can be controlled by smartphone app, by someone who isn’t you, from anywhere in the world.
The internet has, of course, been a huge driver of the increase in both demand for and supply of sex toys, by eliminating the need for you to drag your crimson face and shameful body through a curtained entranceway and into a musty space crammed with dildos, where one or more salespeople will probably judge you for your sexual incontinence.
And now, generative AI is taking things to a new level again, making it possible to find your perfect toy by having a shame-free conversation with an “expert” on your phone, in the toilet, with the door locked, on incognito mode, with the volume turned to zero.
This is a particularly big deal for men, who, unlike women, have failed to embrace the idea that sex toys are NBD and would never dream of discussing this kind of thing with a real person.
First-mover advantage in the AI arms race has gone to global sex toy behemoth Lovehoney, which has created an AI chatbot that will answer questions no man would ever have dreamed of asking a real person, such as, “What have you got that can stimulate my frenulum?” and “What’s a frenulum?”
The chatbot, which its maker calls A.I.ssistant, is a sex-positive, shame-free, alarmingly frank chatbot that can and will talk about all sorts of freaky topics that ChatGPT wouldn’t touch with a 4-inch pole it swears is 6 inches.
I began by asking it to explain why there’s a stigma on sex toys for men that doesn’t seem to exist around toys for women.
It replied the stigma stemmed in part from “traditional views on masculinity and sexuality”, adding: “Many cultures promote the idea that men should be dominant and not need assistance for pleasure.”
It told me there is a misconception that using toys implies inadequacy or weakness. Historically, it said, there had been less marketing and discussion around male products. And then it turned the question back on me: “How do you feel about breaking those stereotypes and exploring your own pleasure?”
“Awkward and ashamed”, I wrote.
“Remember,” it said, “exploring your own pleasure is a natural part of life and there’s no need to feel ashamed …You’re not alone in this.”
But, if that were true, why was I talking with a robot, in the toilet, with the door locked, with my phone on incognito mode and the volume turned to zero?
Prior to my discussion with Lovehoney’s chatbot, the only male sex aid I knew by name was the Fleshlight, so called because it mimics human flesh, is shaped like a flashlight and is made by a company that knows nothing turns a man on like bad wordplay.
Essentially a technically advanced sock into which a penis can be put, the Fleshlight seems to embody the lack of sexual imagination for which men have long been unfairly known. So when I asked A.I.ssistant for the most popular men’s toy and it recommended not only the Fleshlight, but its Quickshot model (tagline: “Sometimes efficiency is the best policy”), I sighed. Surely we can do better?
But when I started asking it questions about new developments in men’s toys, it exposed to me a whole new world: one that was more embarrassing, and sometimes more frightening, than I could have ever imagined.
It turns out the modern market for toys into which penises can be put divides neatly into two broad categories: things designed to look like human orifices and things designed to look like consumer appliances. And almost all of the growth seems to be happening in the latter.
A representative sample: the Blowmotion Warming Thumping Male Masturbator, which looks like half a hairdryer; the Arcwave Ion Pleasure Air Smart Silence Male Masturbator, which looks like a tiny coffee machine with accompanying bean grinder; and the Keon by Kiiroo, which looks like a portable Bluetooth speaker with accompanying rubberised vulva.
But the exterior is only the shop window: what really matters in the male masturbator market is what happens internally. To this end, much of the marketing imagery shows the products in incredibly detailed cross-section and the best of these are works of art in their own right.
Take the Tenga Flip. From the outside, it resembles a bottle of shower gel, but in full, glorious cross-section, it resembles a creature from a Guillermo del Toro movie: an effect enhanced by the terrifying descriptions the company has given each part of its innards: GIANT GEAR, RIBBED-END ORB, BINARY WAVE GATE, SIDE DOMES, FLICKERING EDGES.
The other key development in male toys is in their increasingly sophisticated use of technology. The Opus E, for instance, has “conductive surfaces” that work in combination with “an electro-stimulating device” to “ensure your willy receives additional electrical impulses”. It comes with a choice of sleeves that resemble an anus, vagina or doughnut. Yes, that’s right, a doughnut. No, that’s not a euphemism.
Arguably, the pinnacle of male toy tech right now, at least in terms of freakiness, is the Arcwave Ion Pleasure Air Smart Silence Male Masturbator, which works by using pulsing air to stimulate the frenulum, which “research” has “discovered” to house “pleasure receptors as sensitive as those of the clitoris”. It sounds amazing, but after 143 user reviews on Lovehoney, it has an average score of only 3.7 out of 5, although this score might have less to do with the effectiveness of the product and more to do with men’s inability to locate the frenulum.
A.I.ssistant claims to be more than just an engine for Lovehoney to shift product. It advertises itself as being able to provide tips on how to “up your pleasure game ... From hot advice on roleplaying to fresh takes on sexy sensations”...
Because I was sceptical of that claim, I decided to test it by asking if men could make their own sex toys. To my surprise, it replied: “Yes, you can definitely make your own!” It offered three suggestions: fruit and veg (specifically cucumbers and melons); a soft sock or towel filled with lubricant; and “a clean, soft plastic bottle”. That last one sounded uncomfortable at best and traumatic at worst, so I asked the chatbot to explain how it would work. To my surprise and concern, it did. And no, I can’t repeat what it said.
Because it had specifically mentioned hot advice on role-playing, I asked it for hot advice on role-playing, to which it replied by asking what scenarios I was interested in exploring. For reasons I can’t explain I wrote: “Something based on the TV show Friends” and then, after it asked which character I’d most enjoy playing, “Ross”.
“Great choice!” it replied, apparently unironically.
It offered four possible ideas for the role-play, the first and best of which read as follows: “Dinosaur Enthusiast: Incorporate Ross’s love for dinosaurs into your scenario, maybe discussing a ‘fossil find’ with your partner.” It didn’t tell me what a “fossil find” was, and nor did I ask. It did suggest I wear a button-up shirt and jeans to channel Ross’ “classic look”, which I had to concede did sound quite authentic.
Eventually, inevitably, the conversation turned to commerce. I was a little disappointed but not surprised and I was particularly impressed with the smoothness of its segue. Would I like, it asked, to add some “playful props to enhance the experience”?
“Sure,” I wrote, wondering what products it might possibly think would suit this extremely niche roleplay: The PDX Plus FAP Flask? The Head Master Rechargeable? A replica Ross button-down shirt with clip-on nipple massager?
No, no and no. In the clearest evidence yet that the singularity is not close, it recommended a stream of outfits, including a warrior princess, French maid and a wide range of sexy female nurses, and not a single one of them was in my size.
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