The Human Chair Novels & Stories

(Hint: Anita Pallenberg as the One-eyed Wench. Once I was undressed I got on my reclining seat/bench, it was adjustable but the initial position was reclining at about a 45 degree angle. It was a minimal reclining chair, it was narrow, and had no sides except at the torso. It was designed to allow a woman, on a second intersecting chair, to recline while impaled.

Liam, who just walked over to them, said. “Duh. I don't blame you. It's not our fault you look like a bunny.” Tanya said sarcastically. “You!!” “Enough Liam. Stop being childish.” Mrs Sharon said. “Tanya, we have the chair. Let's get back to work.” Mrs Sharon said to tanya. “Okay.” Tanya replied, then made a funny face to the fuming Liam and then went back to her shooting position. A chair, like that of a king, was placed on the floor. The chair had an icy design that perfectly matched the concept.

The floor was covered in wool carpets. There were all sorts of furniture crafted with exquisite craftsmanship in the surroundings of the main hall. An exquisitely carved chair was placed in the innermost part of the hall, and a man was sitting on the chair. The person wore a black robe and had a bronze mask on his face. He sat quietly without moving, but he emitted an oppressive aura. More than a dozen elites were standing on either side of him at the bottom, and they were all dressed in black. The person on the chair was the Chief—Chain Garner.

Right next to his large bed sat a particular chair. I wasn't naive. I knew exactly what that chair was; it was all over the internet. It was a tantra chair. Good grief. My face turned beet red. I hadn't seen this chair the last time I was in his room. Heaven help me, my man was truly a pervert. He could actually go this far. He definitely had plans for me, which is why he bought that chair. If I hadn't seen it today, I wouldn't have known what kind of trap I was walking into.

The bigger the chair, the higher the status of the team member. Isabella's eyes widened as she took in the scene before her. She saw five large chairs, each with a tag on the seat. The smallest chair belonged to a young man in his twenties, with a tag that read "Jeff". The fourth chair was occupied by a stunning girl with long blonde hair and beautiful eyes, her tag reading "Stephene". The third chair was taken by a gay man with a large stature, almost like a giant, his tag reading "Claus". The second chair was occupied by a girl with a big snake tattoo on her body, dyed pink hair, and green eyes. Isabella immediately recognized her as the girl who had interrupted her and Collins' intense mo

An answer to my question is given when another man enters my room, this time pushing the most compact, futuristic electric chair I’ve ever seen. It’s really just a small seat on top of big tyres, there’s not much to it, and nowhere near as bulky or cumbersome as the kind you see the elderly use. It has a joystick control, black leather lining and white exterior. I glare at the contraption with clear disdain. I’m reduced to an electric wheelchair because they won’t just let me go. Can’t walk or do shit, but still expected to make an appearance. I’ll be a sitting duck.

She closed the door. The click was small. It still sounded like something being locked. Now I was alone in my office, sitting in a chair too large and too comfortable for a woman currently considering a list of people she wanted to destroy legally. I had chosen the chair myself two years ago after spending three weeks in a designer chair that looked beautiful but made my spine want to sue. The leather was dark cognac, tall, wide, with a backrest that made me look like the CEO of an interiors magazine, not the mother of a four-year-old who had just accused chicken soup of being propaganda.

Lila asked him, finally turning around, his entire body moving all at once. “No. Did you buy that fucking spinny chair?” Kai demanded, as soon as he got to the counter and looked over the side. “Yes! Happy birthday!” Lila cheered, jumping off of her newly placed seat. The swivel chair that had finally arrived that afternoon and had a giant picture of Batman’s face on the seat. The metal central support of it was covered in Marvel stickers, with the base of the chair having the Avengers printed all around it.

Each person could customize the color and material on the official website. Bianca chose a soft, pastel pink. The day her chair arrived, she spun around in it several times. Then she stopped in front of me, looking down at my battered chair—its paint peeling, the cushion collapsed—and smiled. "This chair is so comfortable. Too bad. Outsourced staff don't get one. You'll just have to make do with your junk." After years of overtime, I had already developed a herniated disc in my lower back. On rainy days, the dull ache would creep in again.

He looked closer at the chair and he almost screamed when he saw that the chair was made of human skull joined together. As he wanted to run out of the room, a voice called him making him almost pass out. Ryan looked about and saw no one. Fear gripped him, he was shaking all over. As he lifted his eyes to the long chair, his eyes met with a shadowy figure moving close to him. Then appeared before him in the form of a fine, gentleman in his early forties.