You sit up slowly, the leftover trance still thick in your head.

Good boys listen. Good boys stay soft… stay small… obey.

Your mom’s instructions replay on a loop: get up, splash water on your face, come downstairs. She never said anything about clothes. The hypnosis makes the omission feel deliberate and absolute. Compliant to any female order, you simply swing your legs off the bed and stand.

Your soft little cock has firmed into a modest, leaking erection from the lingering suggestions. It stands out from your body—only a few inches, the head already shiny—while your balls hang loose underneath. Completely naked, you walk to the bathroom connected to your room, splash cold water on your face exactly as told, and then step out into the hallway without reaching for a single piece of clothing.

The air-conditioning brushes over bare skin as you go downstairs. Each step makes your small erection bob and your balls sway. The house is quiet except for the faint sounds of your mom moving around the kitchen.

You appear in the kitchen doorway exactly as you are: naked, little cock hard and on full display, still foggy from the hypnosis, waiting for whatever she tells you to do next.

Your mom turns from the counter with a sandwich in her hand and freezes.

Her eyes drop straight to your exposed erection and stay there for a long second. The sandwich lowers slowly.

“…You didn’t get dressed,” she says, voice carefully neutral, though her gaze doesn’t leave your cock. “I didn’t tell you to, did I?”

The trance keeps you quiet and still, hands at your sides, little erection pointing toward her as if presenting itself for inspection. A clear bead of precum forms at the tip and begins to drip while she watches.

She sets the sandwich down, leans against the counter, and studies you in silence for another moment—naked, hard, and obedient in the middle of the kitchen in the middle of the day.

What do you do?