The Human Chair Novels & Stories

He drags out something from beneath the chair and it looks somewhat like large, leather-padded robot hands. He places both hands flat in between my thighs, just a few inches from my pussy. The hands hold my legs apart, spreading me wider, just like a man would. Then the chair suddenly grabs my ass a bit and fixes me tight against the leather bench. “Cairo… what the hell's that? Is the chair grabbing my ass?!” I ask, genuinely panicking and fascinated. “No questions, baby. Just save your energy,” he responds. Then he walks towards the wall and clicks on a switch.

There was no mockery in his tone but held some pride. They had brought me into an office. It looked sterile and lacked any type of personality at all. I bet that some splashes of color would perk it right up. I took a seat on the chair furthest away from them. God, this chair was arguably the most comfortable thing that I had ever sat my ass on. People could have foodgasms and soundgasms. I swore that chairgasms were now a thing They both sat down on the loveseat. Did they have a chairgasm too? It would be too damn bad if they missed out. It could’ve rocked their world.

This was the table of judgment. Blake remembered that this all started with him sitting on the House Leader’s Chair, still looking more like a throne than a chair. It’s high backing and seat, with a leather cushion and wooden sculptures on each end—one of an Eastern Dragon and the other of a Phoenix, both looking about to rise from the back. The arms are carved, connecting each animal using its tail. The legs were cut in the likeness of the legs of the two animals. If it weren’t for this chair, his life would have been more mundane than what it is today, and he would be none the wiser of a world of cultivation within this world.

I continue to stare at the chair, projecting all of my emotions towards it. I watch with a small smile as one of the broken pieces of the chair flies directly at the man and into his chest. The man is so stunned that he doesn't have enough time to react. I watch as the man reaches up to hold onto the piece of chair in an attempt to pull it out. The man falls to his knees, then onto his side, no longer moving. It feels like I've been possessed. I find myself partially sitting up, with my eyes trained on my legs. I watch as somehow my bones begin to move back into place in my legs.

It seemed like he was truly trying not to lose hold of his control. I didn’t know what would happen if he did. But I had no desire to find out. Despite the awkward atmosphere, we managed to work well together, completing the work in record time. By the time I stood from the chair, it was 9 am. Time had passed so quickly. And I kind of felt bereft when it was time for me to go back to my desk. I enjoyed working with this man.

she thought, spotting lots of game consoles attached to the TV, which still resembled Nicholas Alexander, but once again, she frowned when she spotted a fluffy, plush Baymax on the sofa with pink fur slippers. Pink? "It's my sister's, actually," Nicholas said, cleaning up those ‘girly things’ which broke Alexa’s several strange theories about him. "Um, why don't you just sit there while I make you a drink? It won't be long…" "Oh, okay…" Then, Nicholas carried the 'things' in his hand and disappeared into a room next to the stairs. Alexa used that spare time to look around, silently judging the place. "Quite luxurious, which means he's rich, and tidy…" she thought, before frowning when she sa

“I refuse!” Tyr Summers shook his head. “Damn it, you asked for this!” As he spoke, Tall Moxie slammed a button on the chair, and immediately a flow of electricity shocked Tyr. Possessing an electrocuting function, it was not your ordinary chair. Even though its output was not fatal, it could still cause its victims huge pain. Of course, that was only true for ordinary human beings. Tyr, having plied his trade abroad for so many years, had seen this contraption before. With the strength of his body, even putting the chair on its highest setting would not harm him any more than a gentle static shock zap.

Cain's hand closed over my wrist before I touched it. "Wait," he said. I looked at him. "The other chair holds a part of the eight-hundred-year woman," he said. "Kept alive across centuries to be a living continuity. If this chair is built the same way, sitting in it is not a small gesture. We do not know what it does or who it is meant for. I am not willing to let you find out by simply trying it." I looked at the chair. At Cain's hand on my wrist. At the mural, with its sixth uncertain figure.

She sat stiffly in the high-back chair, her fingers hovering uncertainly over the glass trading desk. The holographic screens floated around her, charts spiking and crashing, candles pulsing in angry reds and hopeful greens, numbers shifting faster than her thoughts. Behind her, the air vibrated with a steady electronic hum as Scarlet’s floating assistance-bot adjusted its height, positioning Scarlet’s wheelchair right beside her. Mechanical arms whirred softly, lifting Scarlet’s tablet into the perfect angle. Scarlet, bound to her chair, looked anything but fragile. Her presence was iron. Sharp, commanding, impossible to ignore.

In addition to the five occupied chairs, four more sat vacant. One of the seated men was significantly larger than his fellows, in girth more so than height. His high-backed chair—more of a throne, really—was larger and more ornate than the others as well. Intricate carved runes covered much of the chair’s dark wood surface. The special chair left little doubt that this man was the leader of the group.