DeepNude: the six services still running, and how each takes payment

The advertised figure is almost always a pack price, and a pack is the wrong unit for comparing anything. What decides your spending is how much balance one run takes off, and how many times that run is repeated before the result is good enough.

On Ainudez one image costs 15 credits: with the $9.99 pack that is about $0.30 an image, with the $199.99 pack about $0.03. That tenfold gap is not a reward for heavy use, it is a reward for paying a service that names no legal entity a large sum up front. Undresswith puts one image at 100–110 gems itself, roughly six US cents on its smallest pack. WaveSpeed bills per execution. The other three show nothing until an account exists.

The payment method decides whether your money can still be recovered after the transaction. Ainudez and Undresswith take crypto only: no bank sits in the middle, there is no chargeback, and the purchase is treated as finished the moment the transfer is confirmed. WaveSpeed accepts Visa, Mastercard, American Express, PayPal and a bank transfer, so a charge can be disputed with the card issuer, though its own credits are declared non-refundable. UndressHer takes both rails — debit and credit cards and crypto assets — and is the only one of the six that writes a refund window at all: 14 calendar days, prorated by usage and paid out within 14 business days. Which rail you choose there decides whether that window has anyone behind it.

Two things matter specifically here. First, none of the six lists GCash, Maya or an over-the-counter deposit, so anyone without a card is pushed towards crypto, which is the one rail with no reversal at all. Second, Deep Undress declares all sales final, including membership fees, and warns that the name on your bank statement may differ from the name of the service — the single most common reason people fail to trace a charge they want stopped.

There is only one question here: how long the incoming image and the outgoing result stay on the server, and who a deletion request is addressed to. Undresswith is the only service that writes a single deadline — encrypted for at most 24 hours, then deleted — although the same document commits it to keeping account, payment and IP records for seven years. The picture goes; the archive about the person who asked for it does not.

Deep Undress gives three answers on three different screens and never reconciles them. Ainudez and WaveSpeed use the "as long as reasonably necessary" formula, which is a controller's discretion, not a dated promise. Pornworks has no document readable from outside at all. Section 16 of the Data Privacy Act of 2012 lets a data subject order the blocking, removal or destruction of personal information held about them — but that right is exercised against an identifiable controller, and that is exactly where four of the six lose their address.

Of the six, two name an identity you can look up. WaveSpeed lists two registered companies, in Singapore and Hong Kong, with addresses. UndressHer stops halfway: it names Telelink Network Limited and sends disputes to the courts of the British Virgin Islands, but publishes no domicile anywhere. A company you can look up is worth more than a brand, and still less than somewhere to send a letter.

The rest is blank. Ainudez says only that it is "based in Estonia", with no company and no street. Undresswith shows a team page with no company behind it and leaves a free webmail address as the channel for law-enforcement requests. Pornworks hides its owner behind a domain privacy service; all that remains is the registration year, 2013.

The pattern is uniform across the category. WaveSpeed hands out a one-dollar balance when an account is opened, without asking for a card. Undresswith gives 100 gems after an email is verified — about one image at the cost it publishes itself. UndressHer gives coins on sign-up and more coins for every friend invited. Ainudez states it offers no free allowance of any kind.

That opening balance is enough to see the interface and not enough to judge an output, and the price often only appears once a job is already half-run. What sits behind the word — watermarks, reduced resolution, surveys, quietly active billing — is worked through on the page about how far the free tier goes.

Six patterns repeat often enough to be a reason to close the tab, and all six are visible before payment:

• A page claiming to sell the authentic 2019 program, which was never released again after it was withdrawn.
• A download button that produces no file and instead opens a survey, a sign-up form or the installation of something else.
• A weekly subscription inside a store shell, priced in letters small enough to be read only on the payment screen.
• A tariff payable in crypto only, from an operator that names no company anywhere.
• A claim that files are "never stored" sitting next to a retention period on another page of the same site.
• Support that exists only as an in-app chat, with no email address and no stated response time.

The legal question is not which program was used. It is whether sexual material about a person was made or circulated against their will. Section 12 of the Safe Spaces Act defines gender-based online sexual harassment to include uploading and sharing, without the victim's consent, any media containing photos, voice or video with sexual content, and any unauthorised sharing of a person's photos or information online. Section 13 puts the PNP Anti-Cybercrime Group in charge of receiving those complaints; Section 14 sets the penalty at prisión correccional in its medium period or a fine of ₱100,000 to ₱500,000, or both.

The Anti-Photo and Video Voyeurism Act of 2009 punishes copying, selling, distributing, publishing or broadcasting intimate images of a person taken without consent, with three to seven years of imprisonment and a fine of ₱100,000 to ₱500,000. Its wording turns on an image captured of the person, so how far it reaches a fully synthetic picture is not settled here; the Safe Spaces provision is drafted more broadly. Above both sits Section 6 of the Cybercrime Prevention Act of 2012, which raises the penalty for any offence by one degree when it is committed through information and communications technology. There is no standalone deepfake statute in the Philippines: bills have been filed, and filed bills are not law.

This site takes no part in any stage of what is described above: it stores no files, publishes no installer links, accepts no photos and operates no image service. What the six services actually hand back, and what the result looks like when it arrives, is examined on the page about what actually comes back.