Selling Pleasure at HBS

Following Morgan Hewett (MBA ‘26), a builder in the sex-tech space

Being an amateur humour writer is a soul-killing job; in lieu of actual brilliance, one tends to pick apart every shred of one’s daily life for the speck of a premise. The AI vibrator began as a product of my somewhat perverse creativity, a tawdry gag “startup idea” I tossed into a parody play on Harvard Business School. Ha ha, let’s add AI to everything, right? That’s what Silicon Valley is all about!

That particular joke, like many others I wrote, did not make the final cut of the show, but like a budget Simpsons writer, it would seem life imitates art—a few weeks later (November 2025), my roommate texted me that our batchmate at HBS, Morgan Hewett, had pitched her AI-vibrator startup, Devin Toys, in an entrepreneurship class.

I met Morgan in my very first semester of business school, by the happenstance of being in the same section, one of ten in our batch. She had just sold her startup, an AI-powered telehealth platform for treatment-resistant depression, with a good outcome, clouded only by the dilution incurred through the ignorance of being a first-time fundraiser. 

All that came later; that first day, I remember a flawlessly made-up girl, dressed head-to-toe in pink, looking stunningly out of place at 7 a.m., breezing socially through the crowds as I attempted to hide behind my newly too-short hair and oversized HBS t-shirt. “What does it take?” I wondered, uneasily, scouring the periphery of this new place; I could not voice what for, exactly.

About four days into classes, I would conclude that the all-pink outfits were a regular feature.

“I love pink. I was FaceTiming my mom when she was in my childhood bedroom, where all the walls were bright pink; I’d forgotten how much I loved it. I thought to myself—wow, before Morgan started doing things for men, what had she loved? I’ve worn pink every day for the six years since.”

What is an AI-powered vibrator?

In my many conversations on this topic, it always surprises me how coyness defeats the logic and inquisitiveness of professional cross-questioners at business school. What does the AI in Devin Toys do, after all? Two things: it is covered with sensors which measure arousal and adapts the experience to make it more pleasurable, and it offers personalized fantasies communicated to you via earpiece, by either a male or female persona.

AI has brought to the spotlight an industry where taboo has translated to issues with advertising, funding and even banking. Lovense, the interactive sex toy brand, debuted AI-powered toys and even a life-sized AI companion doll, Emily, at the 2025 and 2026 Consumer Electronics Show, respectively; just 6 years after Lora DiCarlo was banned from exhibiting their sex toy at the show, after being invited, in 2019, stirring up allegations of sexism.

Why go from mental health to building in the sex toy space?

A few weeks into school, at the tail-end of a warm September [2024] when it still seemed like the sunny days would last forever, I remember a desultory conversation lounging on the lawns on business school’s favourite topic: dating. In the most older sister fashion, Morgan interspersed affirmations with details on dating standards to adhere to, while I squirmed in my chair, unsure of what to do with the blinding force of her full attention.

Sitting with her again for this article, I was reminded of that day; us leaning together conspirationally whispering, feeling less like an interview and more like my hostel days where conversations with girlfriends filled in for the lack of any actual sex education.

“The best period of my sex life is now [with my current partner]; the second best period was actually when I was single. I think being single is better than a bad relationship with a man, one that’s detrimental for you, and that should be true for self-pleasure too.”

Morgan speaks openly about surviving domestic abuse—her college boyfriend, behind the facade of a good-looking star football player, concealed manipulative tendencies escalating into violent rage.

“In our last fight, he completely blacked out; he saw red and beat me up until I was unconscious. In that moment I realized he was truly losing himself; if I stayed, one day he would black out and accidentally kill me,” she shared, on the podcast I Know a Girl. “The fear of leaving him was less than the fear of staying with him and dying.”

In the aftermath, she struggled with her mental health. She remained caught between coping with PTSD symptoms and willfully looking past them, not wanting to lose more time to this episode; until her brother, who was battling depression, spoke to her about it.

“It wasn’t until [he] started having conversations with me about going on anti-depressants, that I started prioritizing mental health. That began my long journey, which inspired my first startup. Medication really helped when I first started my recovery journey; eventually I was able to taper off it, and I’ve been medication free for many years now.”

OptionsMD, Morgan’s first startup, uses AI to predict which treatments and medications individuals with treatment-resistant illnesses are most likely to respond to; inspired by her brother, who tried twelve different treatments before finding one which worked for him.

“This is an odd company for an HBS person to start.” Morgan admits, about Devin; “No investor comes to HBS thinking they’re going to find a sex tech brand.” 

“This isn’t about money for me.”

Morgan, who still works with victims of domestic violence, makes no delineation ring-fencing the deeply personal in how she expunges her efforts in life. If OptionsMD arose from her experiences with mental health, Devin Toys comes from the years Morgan spent single, after an abusive relationship, asking herself what the bar for partnership should be, and how to live a fulfilling life alone.

“People talk so much about the male loneliness epidemic, but I see something quieter and more interesting happening with women. So many of my friends are single, and successful, in their 30s, 40s or even just getting married later in life, like a mentor of mine who recently tied the knot at 50. I think historically, the institution of marriage did not really benefit women.”

“Of course, that means people misinterpret me as being anti-relationship. I’m not! I just think being single is better than a relationship which is holding you back, so we should be less afraid of it.”

Marketing a Sex Toy in Behind Your Name

May 2025, the end of the first year of the MBA; I was on a school trip, when I was sent a reel on Instagram, with a refrain I would continue to hear socially over the next few months: “Did you see Morgan’s latest video?” Curiosity won over my struggling roaming network connection, as I attempted to watch it in as many pixels as were available.

Prior to starting the brand, she was already building up an online presence which was, in itself, not unusual—podcasts, Tiktoks, blogs proliferated around increasingly niche aspects of the business school experience, produced by, and catering to, the transitory student population, and seldom reaching beyond it. The novelty Morgan brought to this oversubscribed space was a whiff of controversy. 

The video I’d been sent was about being lonely at HBS; an early attempt at the critical honesty which would become a core pillar of her online persona.

“I thought it was interesting that none of your marketing materials refer to your product as a vibrator; but as AI-powered women’s wellness.” I’d spent the evening so extensively stalking her Instagram and her website that her assistant Steph reached out to check if I was interested in a vibrator.

“Steph’s not a bot,” she laughed “She’s a real person.”

“You have a keen eye, noticing that. Instagram and TikTok have advertising restrictions on vibrators; earlier, it used to be enough for just my videos to not mention the word vibrator, but now with AI, if you run ads, they'll also have bots crawl your website. In America, in 2026!” 

In part to circumvent this, and in part to create more depth to product than just a sex toy, she hopes to create the Xerox or Google of sex tech; to create a product category out of the brand—consumers will be buying “a Devin”, not an AI vibrator of the brand Devin Toys.

In aid of this, Morgan had put up a post to hear from her followers on what they thought the device should be called. “So many men responded to that!” she recalled, amused. She often uses social media as a focus group, believing that it gives her engaged viewers a stake in the product—a feeling of co-creation.

When asked about how she filtered the feedback she received online, she explained that the people who were interacting with her page enough to see her posts and polls regularly were a part of the community she was trying to build.

“Sometimes I do believe in God or a higher power; who puts obstacles in your way to help you. The fact I can’t refer to it as a vibrator forces me to connect with people emotionally. Now it’s not about a vibrator—it’s about a lifestyle; a woman who is selfish in a healthy way, prioritizing her own joy.”

“And of course, I ignore all comments on the page from men. They’re not the target audience.”

A significant portion of the reels on Morgan’s page, rather than pertaining to her startup specifically, talks about different aspects of women’s romantic relationships and self-love—“Beware of Men who take you for trips”; “Over half of women in relationships regularly fake an orgasm.” She even brings in her own partner as a foil or a contrast to her product: “I’ve been neglecting my boyfriend to build this product for you.”  This bipartisan move involving her boyfriend confuses both parties who frequent her page; those who accuse her of subversion of a typical relationship norm, and the single women who are her target audience. 

“It’s like Nike: I love Nike; I’m wearing Nike right now. There are better shoes, but I appreciate everything that Nike has done for civil rights, for standing by black athletes like Colin Kaepernick.”

“In sending a message about women's independence and empowerment, I’m building a brand; people switch products, but stick to brands.”

I open up the comments on one of Morgan’s reels; although many are dotted with positive wishes by friends and acquaintances, some attract the negativity faceless internet interactions breed. “The cynical and jaded perspective, the lack of confidence in men… it’s understandable and it’s sad” read a line from a tirade by a self-designated well-wisher, a woman who even opened her comment with “I like you”. “I thought all women knew this, are you only just realizing this?” says another, on a video warning women about men who pay for your trips early on. “Don’t you need to pay people for this?” on one of her customer research reels, asking for sexual fantasy ideas for the AI companion.

Beyond positive or negative comments, it was the silence that echoed. I scroll; Morgan is sitting at her dressing table, describing her product as a perfume in a husky, sensual voice. 8 likes, and no comments. 

I wondered what it felt like to open up about such a vulnerable topic, so regularly, that it might even feel commoditized to your viewers; not driving their engagement. Whether it started feeling rote to yourself, too.

“I think sometimes with marketing, you tend to think of people as a group; but if I want to be seen as somebody that matters, I have to see every single person watching that video as someone who matters. So even if the video only got a reach of 20 people, maybe those 20 are really interested in my product; I should be appreciative of that.”

Who’s Funding This?

[February 2026] Devin Toys. For friends who want to try it (I’ll be making a loss on these): $99; Retail Price: $299; For those who want to support me with a little more!: $399.

A three-tier pricing model for Devin Toys' first presales campaign (which has now been replaced by an early-bird price is $184). I switch back from the website to the girl’s group chat where this was shared; I felt unable to rise to the task of discussing the vibrator as a potential purchase. “Did you know Good Vibrations [the sex shop prominently windowed at Harvard Square, next to a popular bagel spot] is on Doordash?” I text back. Candy Heart Dildo Pleasure Works. $69.99.

Morgan believed in her community to be able to fund this; she believed if she could do $500K in pre-sales of Devin, she might consider not raising at all.

“My first company, I needed the money. It's a tough position to be in because, yes, you're fundraising, but you also kind of feel like you're begging a little bit. I just don't want to be in that position again. It's really anti my whole ethos.”

Like many other early-stage investors, Morgan was burned playing the valuation game, with her stake significantly diluted—when she sold, she was shocked by how small her final payout was, despite having driven the business for years. “Everyone else got paid before me,” she said.

The sex tech industry struggles with falling on the wrong side of vice clauses, restrictions set by limited partners (typically the large institutional investors like pension funds or university endowments) on where an investor can deploy their money.

Despite this, it seems Morgan’s startup is attracting investor interest. In the course Founder’s Launch, HBS’s flagship entrepreneurship workshop, students pitch the investors of week one-on-one; following which their performance is dissected in front of the class. At the time I spoke to Morgan, she’d spoken to 20 investors over the semester. 

“So basically my experience is that if an investor just sees my deck, they're like no, I'll never invest in this company. If I can get a one-on-one conversation though, they’re often converts.” Morgan reflected.

This course culminated in a grand finale, Demo Day, with the battleground of choice upgraded to HBS’s auditorium Klarman Hall, with a full panel of investors, pitching to an audience in the area. 

I overheard a reference to Morgan’s performance at this finale, at a friend’s backyard event celebrating the first signs of summer—beheading boiled crawfish under the cloudless blue sky. “Investors loved her. She has so much charisma, they were fascinated by the pitch.” my friend said, reflectively peering at the crawfish shell sinking into my now-abandoned beer. “She didn’t use the word vibrator even once though, I wouldn’t have realized what she was talking about had I not known!”

Morgan won the Investor Vote, an award for the company investors were most excited about. “Frankly it was because of the traction I received on pre-sales; we’re at $45K of revenue this month just 3 months after starting, without even having launched a product. That’s something investors can’t ignore.”

I first interviewed Morgan about this article early March; by April end, she saw her prescient bet on pre-sales pay off, giving her enough leverage to consider raising money.

“The confidence around how well I was received by investors led me to launch my pre-seed round, which I did, the night of Demo Day; so now I’m racing to close my round,” she says, on a voice note—unable to make our last rendezvous before the publication of this article, rushing to the airport to make a flight for an investor meeting instead.

Is HBS Ready for the Business of Sex? 

I’m staring at the Partiful for an event titled “The Business of Sex with Ari Kytsya,” a famous OnlyFans creator and internet personality who talks about the negatives of the industry. It was hosted by the Cannabis Business Association of HBS and sponsored by Julie Care, a company selling morning-after pills, offering both pizza and their products to attendees. It seemed almost amusing to me how trite it was for these different avenues of business, which all existed slightly outside conventional conversation to varying degrees, to come together, as though for support.

I scroll down and see all 120 seats for this talk filled.

Harvard Business School is not new to discussions around reproductive health—Cofertility, which provides egg-freezing services, spoke on campus during the Woman’s Health Conference; a startup to assess the quality of male sperm is being worked on by an HBS student. However Devin Toys might be the first HBS startup in the adjacent sex tech space.

There were two anonymous complaints to the HBS Student and Academic Services team about the talk, both focused mainly on concerns that OnlyFans’ business model may be exploitative toward its creators. “I wish I could have invited them for the event, because they would have realized that that’s a big part of what she talks about!” Morgan exclaimed. The event did not happen as planned, victim to a Boston snowstorm; it was rescheduled to April, when 80 people—mostly women—attended.

I went to an undergraduate college whose administration believed they had the right to search students’ dorm rooms and dole out disciplinary hearings if they found condoms. Coming from a range of backgrounds, I wondered whether people approached Morgan for debate simply because it fell outside their worldview.

“Two of my close friends did speak to me about their concerns about the event, which I thought were valid. Maybe there are more people who aren’t that supportive of me; but given that everyone here is trying to optimize for being liked, no one is going to say anything to my face.”

Despite my voyeuristic journalist probing, Morgan maintained her optimistic poise; although several of her videos open with the fiery take “Harvard Business School hates my startup” she remains neutral and understanding about criticism she receives, unwilling to delve into details, redirecting with quiet effectiveness towards more positive threads of discussion.

Earlier in our conversation, I had asked her if she received uncomfortable messages on social media. “Oh, totally. It just isn’t personally something I lose sleep over.” she said, dismissing my probing concern confidently, going on to talk about the messages she receives from women in abusive relationships, and how fulfilling it was to help them.

I sensed a strict discipline. When your everyday involves sharing the deeply personal, sparking debates usually had in whispers behind closed doors, there is a line. One does not veer into the unproductively personal, a provocateur for no cause; one must only draw as much attention or ire as is necessary.

In the earlier days of figuring out her public persona, it is possible that Morgan did not draw this line as clearly. One of her more contentious reels is a response to another girl, discussing how the men of Harvard Business School fall short as dating partners. At 3,500+ likes and 300+ comments, this is her highest engagement reel; with the first comment on the reel being “Does she know she’s a 3.5 on 10?” from a man, as a response to her calling out men at Harvard Business School as 4/10 on looks.

I brought up this topic in response to her answer to the question: “What would you like to tell people that you usually don’t get a chance to?”

“I think people position me as more anti-man than I am. I’m in a happy relationship, and so many of my male classmates have been supportive and helpful.”

Ultimately, I think she’s figured out how to hold her own. I was touched to see a response to the above comment from our classmate, and her close friend: “She’s a 10.” Recently, at one of our last section events, a humorous roast (which is a tradition at the school), Morgan’s startup came up. Warm cheers for her filling the hall, as she posed in front of the meme on a projector. When something enters the realm of good-hearted humour, you can be assured it is favourably cemented in public perception.

The Confidence to Keep Showing Up

I was lucky to have many readers and critics for this article, pre-publication; I remember a surprising comment I received from one—“She cuts a lone figure.” I’d never thought of her that way; the booming laugh echoing from the centre of a party, the focus of an intense conversation in the breaks between classes. 

Perhaps the loneliness was in holding on to the conviction, the confidence—to cut into conversation, to make that joke at a party, to endorse what you believe in, without looking left or right for reassurance. 

It’s the end of our two years at HBS; my hair’s grown out, tempered with a spontaneous dye-job in Lima. I’d found my outlet, writing for our school newsletter throughout—and this is to be my last article. I look over to Morgan, sitting across the table, looking fabulous even under the harsh overhead light. I’d spent the last hour with her, pulling at the ill-defined thread: “What does it take?”

“It’s hard work though, girl. It’s really hard work to be so confident that if people diss you, you really are just like, ‘You’re missing out’.”

Ramya Vijayram (MBA ‘26) is originally from Chennai, India. She graduated from the Indian Institute of Technology, Madras, with a Bachelor’s and Master’s in Biotechnology. Prior to the Harvard MBA, Ramya worked at Warburg Pincus in Mumbai, India, and McKinsey and Co. in India.