“…do I actually have this on my crotch? Yes. Yes, it’s definitely touching me. And I’m definitely holding it in the general region of my clit, but… is it on? Of course it’s on, I can hear it. I.. I think it’s touching my clit. WHY CAN’T I FEEL ANYTHING?”
That’s pretty much everything you need to know about the Kiki Vibe from Picobong. Picobong is a new, more affordable line from LELO, and so I expected… something from this toy. Something other than what I was given.
I was excited about it, at first. It’s cute! (Look at the nubby shape! The colors!) It’s small! (About as long as my palm. In fact, that image beside you is about to scale, if you hold the product up to your monitor.) THAT IS ADORABLE, right? The outer shell of most of the vibrator (save the battery cap) is silicone. The entire toy is waterproof. And while you may not have noticed this initially (as I didn’t, until the product was in my hands), the P and B are the + and – buttons. That blew my mind.
I swear to god, I thought this thing was going to rock my world. Just looking at it was like finding out that you can hold the shower head against your genitals.
So, I tore the Kiki out of the box, rinsed off the smudging that occurred from the black cardstock-like paper that held it in place, and hit the + button. I was greeted by a vibration speed that I will dub, “Are you fucking kidding me?”
I hit the + button a couple more times. Nothing happened. I held the + button down, and the vibe began speeding up. That was more like it. Sort of. I was having some trouble figuring out the vibration patterns, though. I figured I’d just give it a test run anyway.
It comes with a manual. Just read the manual, you guys.
For starters, the manual says that rechargeable batteries result in reduced vibration intensity. After I took the Kiki on its test run, I read that warning and I was like, “Oh, THAT’S my problem!” But no. No, that wasn’t my problem, because I wasn’t using any of my rechargeable AAAs in the Kiki. It was made this way. The flaw is not in my battery choice.
The second thing you’ll gain from the manual is the knowledge that you have to hold down the + button for about two seconds to change the pattern settings. The Kiki boasts twelve modes, which contain a decent amount of variety in the patterns. One of them is even kind of… musical. I thought that was cool. I don’t own a single vibrator that has as much genuine pattern variety as the Kiki! But with a motor that could lose a race against a slice of bread, there isn’t enough power available for me to ENJOY those settings.
Finally, Picobong boasts that the Kiki is near silent. While it is a relatively quiet vibe, you’re going to be relatively quiet too… because it probably isn’t going to get you off.
Oh! And one last complaint… more of a pet peeve, really. Picobong’s box (and their site) says that the Kiki is great for C-spot stimulation. Where the hell is your C-spot? Can you show me? I’m pretty sure they mean the clitoris. That is not a “C-spot.” It is a clitoris. STOP, Picobong. Stop that. I hate that term. “C-spot?” It’s not a spot. My vulva is not a Dalmatian. It’s a clitoris. It’s filled with twice as many nerve endings as the penis. It is not a “spot” like the coin-sized G-spot. It’s more of a nub shape, at best. And it has a name. The clitoris. Don’t try to change it. Next you’re going to be selling me dildos and telling me they’ll stimulate my “v-spot.”
Also, they say you can put the Kiki inside yourself to stimulate the vaginal opening. Don’t make me laugh.
I spend my nights turning the Kiki on and off, switching between different settings, and dreaming about what sort of bliss my clitoris could be experiencing if this vibrator could plug into an electrical socket.