Zero Gravity Chair Indoor の小説・ストーリー

“Your turn.” Kiara looked up at the frame, worry etched on her face. “I don’t think I can reach. You are taller than me!” I pulled the desk chair over and glared playfully at her. “No excused.” Her mouth hung open but when I didn’t budge she stepped up onto the chair and gripped the frame. When she had her weight on the wood, I pulled the chair away. “Now pull up.” Kiara dangled there, feet several centimeters from the floor, arms fully extended, “I can’t!” she struggled a few seconds more before her fingers gave out and she crashed to the floor in a heap. “How did you manage so many?”

I know who’s organized this. The guy runs through how to charge and operate it, and how to fold it down, and I listen as best as I can while my head spins. When he’s done, I bring the chair inside and take it into the living room. Mum looks up from her crochet and stares at it. “It’s from Kip,” I say, my voice squeaky with emotion. We both know it’ll mean increased freedom for her around the house, and maybe even when we go out, if I can figure a way to get it in and out of the car.

None of that is all that extraordinary though. I freeze in the doorway of my office. Instead of my usual ergonomic chair, there is a throne behind my desk. A massive, plush leather recliner that looks like it belongs in a first-class airline cabin. It has lumbar support, a footrest, and I’m pretty sure it has a massage function. "He had the maintenance crew move it in an hour ago," Enzo explains calmly. "He said your back needs support." I stare at the chair. It looks comfortable as hell. It’s also completely ridiculous behind my sleek, modern glass desk. This is not a battle I want to pick though.

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.

It was so obvious that Madeline was squirming in her seat,' Daniel thought, not even bothering to roll his eyes. His brain was already racing through a list of things in the streaming room that needed an upgrade. He was a gold-medal assistant, after all, and spotting those details came with the territory. … Madeline was halfway through her lunch when a bunch of new stuff was carted in. The delivery guy announced, "Behold, the Gibson Group's latest brainchild, the smart office chair. It's like a personal throne that adapts to whoever sits in it, complete with massage and recline features for those power naps.

A shiver went through me, and I had to bite my cheek to keep from begging him to do that again. My eyes looked from station to station growing bigger with each and every piece of equipment that I recognized. I looked over to find Jordan and Jack engrossed in a conversation about the carpentry on several of the items. The innovation and imagination that went into every piece seemed to impress them greatly. I looked at the piece in front of it and recognized it as a kneeling chair. It was designed for the sub to kneel and bend over the flat surface on top, presenting her backside at the perfect position for a spanking or other various torturing ideas.

How did an empty table take so much space? "Afternoon to you, Kevin." The young man nodded and gestured for Walter to take a seat before him. Walter turned and was about to tell Kevin there wasn't a seat when a seat materialised from the black marble floor. Walter stumbled back and watched four wire-like growths spurt out of the floor and thicken to create the wheels of a swivel chair. It continued. Out of the wheels, a string of wires spurted out with swiftness as it formed a mesh-like pattern. Each of the wires thickened and a seat was forming. This time, it wasn't silver like that of the wheels, it was obsidian. Two rods shot out of the edge of the seat and a sheet of black leather was so

said Phil, “but it’s honestly not all that useful. Try getting up.” I let go of the spoon and pushed my feet against the floor. Normally this would force the chair to scrape back, allowing me space to rise. On this occasion there was no movement. I had pulled the chair in when I sat down to eat and now I was stuck. “We can move around but we can’t interact with anything. And nothing can interact with us. The only think it’s really useful for is running away. In a tight spot? Freeze everything and get as far away as you can.”

Heavy chains dangled from the ceiling, and various whips, paddles, and accessories were meticulously arranged on glass shelves. I continued to explore cautiously, my eyes scanning every corner as my body seemed frozen with shock and a fascination I couldn’t suppress. At the far end of the room, there was a high chair, almost like a throne, covered in black leather with metal details that gleamed in the dim light. It was the seat of someone in command. Masato’s throne. My mind was racing in all directions. Masato had been strict with me, but I had never imagined he could be this... extreme. And worst of all, part of me felt a sick curiosity, an excitement mixed with fear.

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.