Men In Black Suits

So, some of my mental meanderings, mentioned in the last post, brought me to wonder what would happen if the Men In Black were less supermen, and more average Joes given entirely too much power. Thus, is a short story born. Here's the first part. Ya'll let me know if I should continue or not.

“It’s time to put it on.”

“Huh?” Sam Sullvan had only been recruited by this “agency” about five minutes ago, and already they had him confused. They had a nice benefits package though, and he’d been bored.

“The last suit you’ll ever wear.”

“That sounds ridiculously like something out of a science fiction comedy movie. Admit it, it’s the last style of suit I’ll ever wear. And not even that. You said I get two weeks a year paid vacation, and I might want to go to a nice dinner.”

“No, it’s the last suit you’ll ever wear. It’s structure bonds to your skin on a molecular level. You’ll need to shower with a dryer sheet from now on.”

“Ha ha very funny.” By this time Sam had stepped into the slacks and was buttoning them, since the other man, who had introduced himself as Zee, had made no move to leave. Sam didn’t have much problem changing clothes in front of others anyway; he’d played football in high school, and always thought fondly of the showers in the locker room at Milton J Burbank Senior High School and Auto Repair.

“You think I’m joking? Try to take the pants off.” Zee smirked at Sam in a very disquieting manner.

Sam dropped his drawers with a flourish. Or, he tried to. Instead he broke a nail on the waistband and cursed while he inspected his manicure and wondered if Chow Ming could get him in to fix the ragged thumbnail.

After a moment, Sam realized that the slacks were still firmly attached to his hips, and he gaped at Zee in horror.

“Told you so. Now put the shirt, tie, and jacket on. Don’t put the socks on yet though, we’ll need to treat your feet before you do.” Zee pulled a small device out of his pocket and started tapping on it, hmming at intervals.

Sam, meanwhile, was picking at his pants. Literally. They felt like normal high quality suit slacks, on the outside, and his hands didn’t stick to them, but he couldn’t peel so much as a thread away from his hips.

“You have got to be kidding! I am not putting any more of this stuff on! Why in the hell would you make something like this anyway??” Sam was becoming more hysterical by the second, and Zee wasn’t helping. Instead of helping Sam take the possessed pants off, he was leaning against a locker, holding the small device up at different angles, and snorting with laughter.

“Because, we asked some of our unofficial friends for a fabric that would never wrinkle, never tear, never stain, and be wash-and-wear. Unfortunately they were a little confused on the concept of wash-and-wear, so we got this.”

“But why would you keep using it??” Sam was near to tears by this time, and he hadn’t even wondered how he was going to use the toilet yet.

“Because, those of us who started this thing are stuck with it, and it’s funny as hell watching the new guys. Feel lucky, Vee always went commando, said it was breezier.”

“Went? If he’s stuck in these things he still does.”

“Unfortunately Vee had a small psychotic break after six months with the agency. He was working a case at a strip club, and… well… it was messy.” Zee brushed his hands down his sleeves and checked his cufflinks, not looking at Sam.

“Huh? Never mind, that’s not important, I’ll figure it out later.” Sam eyed the small device which Zee had once again pulled out and begun tapping on. “So, I guess you guys have all kinds of freaky technology, considering the suits and all.”

“Pretty much.”

“So what’s that thing? Some kind of molecular de-atomizing spectral analyzer?”

Zee looked at Sam like he’d just super glued his hand to his genitalia, on purpose, and was loudly extolling the virtues of having one’s hand permanently attached to one’s “pride.”

“Nooo,” Zee said slowly, “it’s a smart phone. You know, a PDA and cell phone in one?” Zee held the device up and showed Sam the screen.

“So what was all that pointing it around at different angles before?”

“Oh, just trying to get the best picture for your ID.”

“What?!?”