Home / Privacy Policy

Privacy Policy

Last updated: November 10, 2026

The mailbox

One address, shown in the footer. That is the entire way in, maybe three letters a week. A message waits until one of us has read it and typed an answer, then it gets deleted, not filed, not forwarded, not sold on. Will anyone from here ever write asking for a photo, a login or card digits? No. Mail that does is a fake using our name, bin it. The coupon box on the review page? Different story entirely. Your browser does the checking itself, comparing the code against a short list buried in the page source, so no server ever hears what you typed. Yes or no, then the box forgets you.

Lines in the host log

Open a page here and the host jots down a line. IP address. Time. Which page, where you came from, and that long clumsy name string every browser announces about itself. Boring on purpose. Those lines tell us when something broke and which sections readers actually open (the price table, nearly everyone; the paragraph on the diffusion model, nearly nobody). Lines age out after a few weeks. They are matched against nothing, since nothing else stored here could be the other half of a match.

A visit counter may be switched on too. It adds one. No tracking cookie behind it, no profile of your interests, no ad network listening in, since the site carries no ads anyway.

The cookie that pays

Press Visit Site or Try Undresswith AI and the browser leaves for undresswith.ai, now and then through a referral link. Their side may store a marker so that credits bought over the following days are counted as a sale sent from here, and a commission follows. Your price moves by nothing. The thing that lands on our dashboard is a figure, never a person: no name, no card digits, nothing about what you went on to generate. Did the commission soften the review? The hidden-pricing complaint is still sitting in it, so no.

Links out

The page points at undresswith.ai, at the rival generators in the comparison cards, and at a handful of background references. Ours? None of them. Undresswith claims the uploaded photo gets processed and binned afterwards. Maybe so. Read it in their wording anyway, since a paraphrase in a review is not what you would hold them to. And no retention policy anywhere makes it fine to upload a person who never clearly said yes.

Cookies of our own

Hardly worth the heading. Perhaps one that remembers an open FAQ item. Perhaps a bot-check cookie set by the host. Both stay on this domain and expire by themselves. Block them, clear them, read in private mode: the review renders identically, down to the pixel.

Eighteen plus

Adult software, adult readers. Records from anyone under 18 are never kept on purpose. Should a message turn out to come from a minor, say so and it is wiped.

Not the vendor

Two hobbyists who test picture generators and publish the notes. No payment from the brand, no draft sent across for approval. This page covers your data as a reader of this site and nothing further. Drop a photo into the uploader at undresswith.ai and their privacy document takes over, not this one. Read theirs slowly, before the first upload rather than after.

Pulling your data back

Got a data law where you live? Ask us, then, what sits on file about you, and tell us to fix it, wipe it, or stop processing it altogether. Send that to the footer address. Nine times out of ten the honest answer is that nothing exists beyond a log line already halfway to expiring; expect it within 30 days, often the same afternoon.

New date, new text

Site changes, law changes, either one sends us back to this page, and the date up top moves with it. Keep reading after that date? The newer wording is what counts for you.