I wanted to feel the sensation of water sloshing in my vagina. Like the refreshing feeling of wading into the ocean. Like the satisfaction of tilting a Magic 8 Ball. The Ceramix No. 4 doesn’t feel like that, which is one reason you shouldn’t buy it. But it’s not the main one.
The other reason is that it’s made by Pipedream. I hate this company and want to burn it to the ground. They have violently sexist and racist marketing, which they defend with statements about how men are basically pigs anyway. They write upsetting press releases and send repulsive emails. Their silicone dildos are stuffed with foam, their “metal” toys are nowhere near stainless steel, and they rip off shapes from njoy and Crystal Delights. The rest of their toys are ridiculous, unsafe, and toxic, because, according to them, “most of our customers don’t give a shit what their toy is made of.” They are known for their celebrity sex dolls, and they recently stooped to a new level of reprehensible when they created a blow-up doll called J-Law Hacked. Because profiting from a sex crime is cool now.
Still, I understand that once in a while people need a cheap glass dildo or harmless hard plastic vibrator, and I was intrigued by the promise of the Ceramix line: some of the toys in it are hollow (bonus: we know they’re not stuffed with foam!) and can be filled with warm or cool water to adjust sensation.
The cynical side of me said that the hollow “feature” was Pipedream cutting corners and calling it innovation. The tiny, almost microscopic angel on my shoulder told me to give Ceramix a chance.
The packaging is trying, with its lightly-embossed image, text, and silver accents, but there are a few clues this toy is made by dummies. Like icons denoting temperature play (true), strap-on compatibility (uhh), and that the toy is lead-free, nickel-free, cadmium-free, and phthalate-free. Hint: you know it’s a shitty company when they feel the need to point out that there are no phthalates in a material that should never, in any circumstance, contain them. The back of the box claims the toy will hold heat for up to 20 (!!) minutes (!!!). Inside, there is just a hunk of styrofoam with a cut-out cradling the toy. No instructions, no storage bag.
$36 can’t buy you everything, people.
There’s no way of actually verifying that the glaze on this toy is body-safe. It does seem fine, though — sturdy, uniform, no sign of wear or chipping with use. However, the imperfect white painted circles are lightly raised in a way that makes me question whether the toy is still coated in vag goo when I’m giving it one of my signature rough handjob cleanings. The cork is difficult to remove and I fear chipping my nail polish, so I’ve resorted to using one of my point brushes (which are also great for scraping stickers off things and getting gunk out of crevasses).
The shape of this toy is so blasé. It’s like an undefined lump someone tossed together in pottery class. I should’ve maybe picked a dildo with an actual curve, but I was swayed by the blue. In use, it feels tame and inoffensive. Sometimes it gets turned around inside me, but it doesn’t even matter because it feels the same no matter which way it’s turned. I can’t feel the movement or sloshing of the water barely at all. REPLY HAZY TRY AGAIN.
One time I used cold water in it. It was nice and cool for about 10 minutes — just as glass or stainless steel would be after being exposed to cold water.
When I pour hot water in it, the heat is mild, short-lived, and kind of odd. At first, it’s like getting in someone’s car and slowly perceiving the creeping sensation of warmth on your ass. Then it feels relaxing and pleasant. But it dissipates after about 10 minutes, and I really only notice the heat externally — on my clit and around my vaginal opening. Inserted, it just blends into my apparent inferno of a vagina.
Here’s the thing. The time it takes to fill the Ceramix No. 4 with water could just as easily be used to run a toy under the tap, and the result is eerily similar — at least with toys made of aluminum and stainless steel. Actually, when I ran my Pure Wand under hot water, it became significantly hotter than the Ceramix No. 4.
Also, novel concept I know, but you could just wait for your orifice of choice to warm up a toy. The aluminum and stainless steel toys, for instance, took three minutes to become room temperature inside my vag, and four more to become hotter. I mean, if you don’t have seven minutes to preheat your sex toys with your vagina, you probably don’t have time to hustle to the sink to preheat them.
After a while, I began to hate the Ceramix No. 4 for what it was subjecting me to. The inanity of testing, of getting up constantly to run things under water and put in new water and warmer water. It was like the nightmarish manifestation of every “tip” about sex toy temperature play (“warm it up in a bowl of water! Your hubby will love you more!”).
I eventually became so displeased by the lack of discernible, lasting heat that I mumbled, “fine, motherfuckers, I’m gonna pour boiling water into it.” I casually wondered if this would break the toy. Didn’t care. Did it anyway.
It didn’t break, but it was an entire hour until I could safely use the Ceramix No. 4. Then it felt fine, but not any warmer than previous masturbation attempts. As it turns out, the temperature of hot tap water is that temperature for a reason — because it’s what our bodies can comfortably withstand. In related news, I’m an idiot.
It’s not the toy’s fault I’m an idiot. And I shouldn’t release all my pent-up rage about Pipedream on a dildo that, by all accounts, is mind-numbingly boring. But that’s just it: if you’re going to abandon all your morals, you should at least get a rad sex toy in return. The Ceramix No. 4 is not a rad sex toy. Sure, it feels good when I’m close to orgasm and I shove it the fuck into my G-spot, and yes, okay, I squirted a bit when I came with Siri 2 against my clit. But that was more a product of it being my final orgasm of the night — you know, the one I waited an hour for.
The boiling water incident was not the first time I secretly hoped the Ceramix No. 4 would break. At one point I was taking photos for my sex blogger house buying post and I was carrying that little table with the toys on it and I thought to myself “if that Ceramix dildo fell and broke, I wouldn’t have to review or use it again.” So there you go. I tried to sabotage this review many a time, but never succeeded, so I’ll have to settle for being a complete bitch instead. Don’t buy this toy. Fuck Pipedream. The end.