NextIncome | AI Girls

"I WOULDN'T RELY ON LISA ANN BECAUSE SHE'S A JUNKIE." That's what one woman told NBC at the final call for a role on 30 Rock. Lisa Ann was set to play herself. NBC gave the part to someone else. Lisa Ann says she doesn't even do drugs. Her real crime was a number. The woman was from a company that wanted her cheaper. Lisa Ann never gave her a break on her rate. "My rate is my rate. You're gonna make a million comps. This money is my money." She had already seen what her name was worth to other people. 18 years ago today, on Election Day 2008, Hustler released Who's Nailin' Paylin? with Lisa Ann as Sarah Palin. Flat fee. No backend. She says she spent more on the wardrobe than she made shooting the movie. A couple of weeks later, Eminem's director called. She played Palin in "We Made You." She learned early that studios resell your scenes in compilations forever. So she put $25,000 to $30,000 of her own money into each movie she produced. Today she says she owns about 80% of her library. In the video below, she sits down with The Joe Vulpis Podcast and tells the whole story. She walked up to Alec Baldwin at her gym and asked him to tell Tina Fey she's not a junkie. Years later, at SiriusXM, she told Tracy Morgan the story. He said they all felt bad for her. "We heard you were a junkie." You've been her. You said no to working for less. And someone made sure you paid for it. Would you have taken the discount and the role, or kept your rate and let them call you a junkie?

Riley Reid was 32 when she let engineers clone her. They fed an AI hundreds of hours of her videos, podcast interviews and her entire social media history. Fans paid $30 a month to talk to the copy. By February 2024 it had passed 10,000 subscribers. She started in adult films at 19. By 2016 she was AVN's Female Performer of the Year. By 2024 she had 21 AVN Awards. Then the money moved online. She joined OnlyFans in 2020. Two years later she was in the top 0.01% of earners on the platform. Other creators paid her to promote them. $2,200 for a 7-day shoutout. She was booked two months out. In 2023 her dad, a programmer, told her his job was becoming obsolete unless he learned to work with AI. That changed her plan. "If I'm not partnering up with it, then someone else is going to steal my likeness and do it without me." So she co-founded Clona.ai, built on a heavily modified version of Meta's Llama. Five free messages, then $30 a month for unlimited chat and voice notes. She fact-checked the bot's answers herself. Her reason was time: "I'm married. I'm a mother. I'm trying to do multiple businesses. This gives me an opportunity to immortalize myself." In the video below, on a podcast in December 2023, she admits the copy isn't her yet. "It still needs work." She hoped a year online would teach it how she'd respond, because "it's hard to teach an AI to be a human." She told AVN a user once opened up to the AI about a stressful week. The next day it had no memory of the conversation. Now she's planning her exit. "I'd rather quit before people are like, oh my God, did you see Riley Reid?" Next: stand-up comedy, animation, voice acting. In 2026 her X feed is still selling "my AI Twin." The woman is leaving. The copy never has to. Is Riley Reid's AI clone the smartest retirement plan in the industry, or did she just sell the one thing she can never take back?

Belle Delphine sold jars of her bathwater to strangers online. PayPal kept the $90,000 and hit her with a $2,500 fine for every jar. One explicit video later, she says she made "around 5 million." Her own father googled her and cut her off. Now she has a price to disappear: $20 million. She was born in South Africa, grew up in England and dropped out of school as a young teen. When she switched to sexier photos, her first Instagram account hit a million followers in about a month. Her only goal, she says, was enough money to move out of her mom's place. In early 2019 she bought her first house with Patreon money. Her dad came over, saw it and wondered how she'd paid for it. She says he googled her and, that evening or the next day, "just went wild." She hasn't seen him since. That summer she launched "GamerGirl Bath Water." Hundreds of jars at about $30 each sold out within days. It made news around the world. The money never arrived. She later revealed PayPal closed her account, counted every sale as a rules violation worth a $2,500 fine, and kept the $90,000. Shipping one jar to the US cost her $11. "Not only did I not earn any money selling my bathwater, I in fact lost money doing it." PayPal only released the money in May 2024, five years later, after her post went viral. In late 2020, at the peak of her fame, she posted her first fully explicit video. She told Louis Theroux it brought in "around 5 million" and paid for an 8-bedroom country house. When he put her income at about a million pounds a month, she said yes. She also told him: "I wish there was a way to kill me on the internet and just like somehow delete everything." In the video below, Philip DeFranco asks what number would make her leave for good. Her answer: start a GoFundMe, raise $20 million, and she'll go away. The internet made her rich for being weird. It won't let her leave. Would you chip in to make Belle Delphine disappear, or is she the smartest businesswoman the internet ever produced?

STOP REWINDING HER HIPS. You’re not watching the form. You’re watching a register that already cleared. One locked face. Same eyes. Same jaw. Same slight smile. 30–40 posts already queued across platforms. Zero actress. Zero mood. Zero “we need to talk about the rate.” The actual numbers from one folder: Day 1 → $90 Day 11 → $3,280 Day 19 → $9,150 While your thumb is still on the pause button, the next 8–12 posts from that exact face are already loaded and the DMs are being answered. Pretty motion is disposable. A face that never clocks out and never renegotiates is not. Most people keep feeding other people’s accounts every time they stop. The ones who put the same locked face on the conveyor stopped rewinding and started compounding. How many times did you pause on something like this this week without realizing the face was the product? Drop the number. The ones who answer usually stop being the audience.