The six services that took over the searches

Its tariff is fully open before registration, and that is the most valuable thing in its file. One image is 15 credits; the smallest pack is 500 credits at $9.99, the largest 100,000 credits at $199.99 — roughly ₱630 and ₱12,600 at about ₱63 to the dollar in September 2026. The price per credit falls tenfold from the smallest pack to the largest, so the discount is not a reward for heavy use but for paying a large sum up front to a service that names no legal entity. Its terms refuse subscriptions and recurring charges, so a purchased balance simply sits there.

Its privacy policy states that incoming images and results are not used for marketing, profiling or third-party model training. What no document answers is when a file disappears from its servers: all it says is "for as long as reasonably necessary". Its video tariff is the most transparent in the catalogue and simultaneously the most expensive per second; the arithmetic of how the seconds are billed continues on its own page.

Its price list is also complete outside the account: 33,000 gems for $19.99 up to 800,000 gems for $199.99, all one-off purchases with no expiry. It puts the cost of one image at 100–110 gems itself, which works out at about six US cents on the smallest pack and two and a half on the largest. One video eats roughly as much as twenty images. Uploads are capped at 20 MB in JPG, PNG, WebP and AVIF.

Its weak spots are on two rows. Payment is crypto only plus gems from a Telegram-integrated service, while the terms say refunds in crypto are "generally not available". Its operator has no name: no company, no domicile, and a free webmail account as the channel for law-enforcement requests. Its 100-gem allowance covers one image at its own rate — how that compares with the rest is worked out in the count of the trial credits.

The easiest to walk into and the hardest to compare. It runs in the browser on any device, opens some functions without an account, and hands out coins on sign-up plus more coins for every friend invited. Its prices are on no public page: the offer arrives mid-process, once a job is already running. The model is one-off payment with no subscription, paid in full up front, by card or crypto, with bank charges on the buyer.

It is also the only one in the catalogue that writes a refund window: 14 calendar days from purchase, with a reason and the order details, prorated by usage and paid within 14 business days. Its operator has a name — Telelink Network Limited, British Virgin Islands. One detail worth knowing: its Android and iOS apps are handed out from its own site, outside both stores, so they pass no store review and have no automatic withdrawal route. That side of it, and what the stores allow in the first place, is covered separately.

The structure is announced, the numbers are not. There are five access durations — week, month, quarter, year and permanent — all presented as one-off purchases with no auto-renewal, but the amounts only become readable inside the account. The balance is deducted per function: a draft costs 2 units, jumping the queue adds 3. Accepted inputs are JPG, PNG, WEBP and BMP up to 20 MB, and MP4 or MOV video under 50 MB; clips longer than 20 seconds are processed only for their first 20 seconds.

Its worst point is file retention, because its own pages will not settle on one answer: the upload box promises that photos are never stored on its servers, while a content notice puts the result there for 72 hours and the task history writes that same period as three days. A promise of nothing and a period of three days are not two readings of one rule. Sales are final with no refunds, and the billing descriptor on a bank statement may differ from the service name. It works entirely in a browser, in the pattern set out for the ones that run in a browser.

The odd one in this catalogue, and it needs saying plainly: it is not a service that processes photographs of people. It rents out more than a thousand image, video and audio models built by other companies, billed per execution, with the catalogue and rates open before an account exists. Its rules expressly forbid creating non-consensual nudity. Pricing is per unit: $0.005–$0.14 per image and $0.01–$0.15 per second of video, rising with resolution and parameters.

It is the easiest to audit: named companies, complete documents, payment by card and PayPal. Its weaknesses are just as plain. Credits are non-refundable and non-transferable, service interruptions are not compensated, and uploaded material is listed as training data that the terms admit may contain sensitive information — with no deletion deadline. Its terms also require users to be 18 or over, while its privacy policy, written for a platform "designed for business professionals", commits only to not collecting data from under-13s: a five-year gap with no written policy in it.

The only file that stops at the door. Every request to the site is answered with a 403 and an automated check screen, including its crawler rules and sitemap. No tariff, no terms of service, no privacy policy: from outside not a single one of its documents can be read and archived, so there will be no numbers here.

It deserves a fair note so the point is not overstated: that kind of filter is an anti-bot product used by thousands of legitimate sites, not a sign of fraud, and an ordinary browser passes it without installing anything. What remains from outside is the domain registration record, dating to 2013 with the owner hidden. Figures circulating on affiliate review sites contradict each other, and copying one of them would amount to inventing a price for someone else's service.