The Black Pot

This topic is decidedly odd, Balthier muses to himself. Pregnancy in males? What would be next, total hermaphrodite-ism? He purses his lips, resting his hand in his chin before he leans back in his chair, shifting awkwardly in thought. Once he's gathered his thoughts, he straightens his cuffs.

"My opinion is that in Humes, it's absolutely absurd. Now, I'm not saying that out of chauvinistic pride, or anything of the sort. Hardly. If anything, it seems as if it would insult the females of a species. Wouldn't it be a bit misplacing, if suddenly men could gallivant around, knocking up any young boy they saw fit to bear their child? It's not to say that women wouldn't be needed, but given history..." Balthier stops and looks to the table, a fingernail running along a groove that had been carved into it long ago, "Women have this gift, to bring life into the world. It's not that I'm a firm believer in any higher power, either, however the sciences of evolution allowed women to do this and women alone, I'm sure, for a reason."

Balthier looks about the room, eyes roaming over some of the others who opposed his views, "Though, I'm not against individuals perhaps being able to. It just seems altogether ridiculous if we were to as a species." He chuckles then, remembering a conversation past, "Then again, there's always the counter-argument. What if women could impregnate?" With that, he sits in his chair quietly, a bemused smile on his face at the thought.

The Doctor sits in the back of the café, his arms crossed against his chest. He chuckles occasionally, amused by the question and the lively discussion it prompted. When the conversation begins tapering off, he speaks, not bothering to stand.

"You humans," he says with a smile, "you’re just so..." He pauses, thinking for a moment, searching for the best word, "...tiny." He adds, quite sincerely, "It’s adorable, honestly."

He straightens up in his seat. "Look, one day, far in the future, you’re going to grow up and leave home and go out into the galaxy. And you’ll see places and people you never dreamed you’d meet. And while you’re out there, exploring, likely you’ll come across some species that aren’t... built the way you are, that are, say, a little more flexible than you are..."

"So in all likelihood, you’ll find species you fancy and you’ll, eventually, uh, let’s call it, dance with some of them. And your genes and their genes will all get mixed up together and one day, thousands of years from now, humans won’t sit around discussing 'what if' males could give birth -- the men'll be sitting around and swapping labour stories right along with the ladies."

He grins, eyes twinkling, and leans back in his chair.

The Luggage ambled along idly, not really doing much of anything. It had tidied the wardrobe of the TARDIS as best it could, but it had decided that a little time away wouldn’t be a bad idea. It wandered into the café, sneaking in through the open kitchen door. The kitchen here was different from other kitchens it had been in. Not much seemed to be going on. It headed out into the main dining room, staying close to the wall. It stopped, curious. The mood in the café was different than it usually was. The luggage sensed a tenseness that was unusual (at least when it hadn’t been around to cause it) and…embarrassment? The luggage was puzzled. Well, as puzzled as it could be. It wondered what had happened to cause such feelings. But it never worried about such things for very long. If it spent all it’s time wondering why humans felt the way they did, it would never get anything done. It decided to wander among the tables, just in case anyone might feel like giving it bacon. Or beer. As it edged away from the wall, it sensed something strange. Odd, why was it suddenly thinking about ladders and…camel hair brushes?

Ianto listens quietly as everyone else presents their opinions on the month's topic. It's certainly been interesting, if nothing else.

He's smiling as he stands up. "Man, I wish Jack was here. He'd have a story to tell you."

"There a certain alien species where the male is the one to carry the child, but there are other people here who know more about than I would." He gives Susan a nod. "But it seems like what we're interested in here is human male pregnancy. Which raises some interesting questions, really. From a purely biological standpoint, how we divide people into male and female is based, really, on whether or not they can carry children. If you have one set of reproductive organs, you're male; if you have another set, you're female. There are in-between areas, of course, but in general it's one or the other."

His tone becomes much more introspective, more like he's thinking out loud than actually speaking. "So, in this case, would men just be the ones to carry the children, like with seahorses, or would the roles be completely reversed? And if that's the case, would we really identify them as males anymore, according to our current system of classification? Would they have male genitalia and a womb? Would they be able to impregnate themselves?" He breaks off, an odd look crossing his face, as though he really doesn't like where this train of thought is going.

He looks around, realising he's gone a bit off-topic.

"Based on biology and technology, though, at least the point we're at right now, it doesn't seem possible. It's ridiculously complicated. There's so much involved, not just the proper body parts but hormones and everything...." He breaks off. "But if we do manage to find a way, at some point in the future, and there are men who want to do it, I don't see why they shouldn't. I mean, as long as it's what they want, and they're not hurting anyone. Which it doesn't seem they would be."

He sits back down. It's a rather ambiguous answer, he knows this, but it's all he can come up with right now.

"Right ... I obviously came into this conversation at the wrong time. I've really got nothing to say to that, and frankly it doesn't sound like it's the kind of thing I should have an opinion about right off since I might get lynched. But I guess I should introduce myself since I'm new here.

"When I woke up this morning, it was January 21, 1941. Now it's January 21, 2008. I guess this kind of thing has happened to a lot of you here. I look forward to meeting you, trying to figure out why this is happening.

"I'm Captain Jack Harkness, RAF volunteer reserve, Eagle Squadron hundred thirty-third. Pleasure to meet you all."



OOC: Jack is American and his accent is very clearly so. Should clarify since his information might suggest otherwise.

John considers the topic for a long while without even a hint of amusement. Finally, he shrugs.

“The world is crazy enough as it is without throwing in guys getting pregnant.” He takes a slow gulp of his coffee and adds, “Anyway, think of the poor kid. I haven’t been the best father in the world and God knows my boys grew up feeling a little… different to the other kids. But their daddy was their daddy and they didn’t have to have any issues about it.”

There’s another long silence as he thinks a little longer. “It could happen, I guess. There are some wicked-strong charms and fetishes out there. All you need is a fertility rite gone off course or a nasty enough mutation to existing human anatomy. Yeah, it could happen. But I’ve never seen it. Knew of a guy, in Minnesota. Claimed he was pregnant. Said he was the new Virgin Mary and the end of days was coming and we all better make our peace with God. Turned out it was a tumour.” John gives a faint grin. “Lucky for us, not so lucky for him.”

He drains his cup and sets it down. “So no. Male pregnancy just sounds like bad news all over.”

Are we discussing males actually giving birth or simply being capable of carrying offspring? There’s a distinction to be made. In many ways, I am already a mother. More specifically, I am my own Mother. All human genetic material in my biology has been overridden by the superior Jenova code. And when I was dispersed into the Lifestream, my cells…my very being, went on to produce yet more of Jenova, blossoming from within people all across the globe. Call it a virus if you will, I could as easily call it birth.

To add an extra layer to this discussion, my genetic material accumulated once more in such great concentration that it was able to manifest itself as three separate entities: Kadaj, Loz and Yazoo. From me, my body, my soul, they were given form. And when Kadaj was reunited with the original genetic material of Mother, I was brought forth from him.

I am my own Mother and my own Father. I am my own Child. I have borne three Children. And I have no stretchmarks.

Sitting in the corner by herself, Phèdre listened to the others speak. Well. She smiled as she stirred her tea. The subject for the night's discussion certainly raised passions, and got people talking, so that was a good thing. After this, she felt as if she knew her fellow denizens of Margate quite a bit better.

But there was one approach to the topic that had not been considered, and which she was uniquely qualified to present.

Phèdre stood, smoothed her black dress, and walked up to the stage, tea cupped in her hands. The warmth felt good. She sat upon the stool, crossing her legs.

"I've enjoyed listening tonight to the various opinions regarding this very unusual topic. But there is one thought that has been playing through my mind that has not been considered. My own situation is unique. I am forty-two, well past the age in my world to bear children. I do not have a child of my own body by choice, but… I do of my heart. Also by choice. His name is Imriel, and he is now in his twenties. He is my foster-son, and I could love him no better had I carried him in my womb.

One question put forth from our host was this. Would men's ability to give birth have a big impact on the world in general?"

Phèdre paused, took a sip of her tea.

"This question can be said to assume, and this is how I personally took it, that by being able to give birth, women have a certain impact on the world. An emotional impact? A gentleness? A kindness or compassion that by virtue of their inability to bear children, men are perhaps assumed to not have? By bearing children, would men then have similar qualities to give to the world? That is assuming much, if one chooses to look at the question from my viewpoint.

For I will tell you this. There are plenty of women in the world who do not have these qualities, and have given birth. I know this first hand, as Imriel's own mother is such a woman. She is evil, cunning, vicious and cruel. Manipulative and heartless…and yet she gave birth."

She smiled. "I am none of those things, and yet have not borne a child of my own. Instead, I brought Imriel up, and taught him to be a good person. To care and be compassionate, to love his people, and those who are helpless before him.

I did not have to give birth to do these things. I did not have to carry a child in my womb, to know good from bad, and to steer him away from the path his mother intended for him, and to teach him the very qualities of a peaceful man.

To believe that merely by being able to carry a child, and give birth, that there would be an impact on the world such as I have evaluated this question tonight for my own discussion, is folly. When Imriel first came to me, his very name provoked people to dislike him. He had a great deal to overcome, bearing his mother's name. But in time, he proved the truth. That he is a good man. Completely unlike his mother."

She looked at her fellow villagers. "Whether or not a person chooses to have a child is her…or his own choice. I am open-minded enough to accept that wizardfolk can change their biology to produce a child if they so wish. Each to his own, though again I insist, one does not have to bear a child to be a good parent. But I also accept that there are those here in Margate to whom the notion of a man bearing a child is ridiculous, is appalling, and blasphemous. We here in Margate come from a stunning array of cultures and times. We have different religions and beliefs, or none at all. None of us can say one or the other is not worthy of being a parent in any way or form."

She pressed her lips together, as her own words touch a fiery nerve. She nodded to her friends, her eyes lingering on one or two, then stood and walked back to her table. Her tea had grown cold, as had she.

Regulus puts down the plate of egg and chips he was carrying to, well, whoever was (un)lucky enough to end up with it, and puts his very best stern-sounding voice on.

"I don't hold with the idea of male pregnancy. Aside from the obvious anatomical obstacles to overcome - and I would absolutely refuse to have a bum baby; honestly, how awful..."

He clears his throat and continues,

"As I was saying, I really don't see any need. If the purpose of having children is to pass on one's blood and one's name, why have another father who would surely wish for his own line to be continued? Unless, of course, they were close family and therefore name would not be an issue at all. As a Black, I can hardly have an issue with inbreeding.

And if the purpose of male pregnancy is to relieve women of the task, then that's even more ridiculous. It's what they're built for, after all. It would be like taking away man's most-treasured and giving it to women so that they may have it instead. I think I can speak for every man here when I say that we like our unmentionables just where they are, thank you.

So. I'll leave the pain and suffering to the women. Some people have got far more important things to be doing - although that's not to say I wouldn't enjoy being pampered for nine months, minus the foetus and all its complications, of course.

But surely I don't need to be pregnant to deserve that?"

He grimaces at the greasy fried egg on the plate in front of him.

"Eggs, anyone?"

*raises her eyes from where she's cleaning a small pistole*

What?!? I work for DEATH, right? I'm all for making people kill each other. Not for making more people be born... Apocalypse! I'm not even an actual person!

*goes back to her cleaning, while chewing a bullet*

Then again... If men could get pregnant that would mean they would also have the murderous, ridiculously aggressive, stark raving insane hormones. And there would be many more people. A lot of them. And all of them with the vicious hormones...

*face lits up like an atom-bomb exploding, making everybody see bright spots behind their eyelids for hours*

Oooooh... Can we do it?

Sam hunches forward, the grimace trying to fight its way onto his face smoothed away forcibly when he sees Dean heading back to their table.

"Thanks," he mutters, sliding over to himself the soda Dean had brought. He catches the straw with his tongue and takes a long sip. Already he wants to fidget again, pluck at the shirt that's clinging a little too tightly. Not for the first time--although this is certainly a first--he's glad to have kept in the habit of wearing layers.

He can't stop laughing when he hears the topic. Leaning back on his chair, Charlie says, "I wonder if there would be seven little Weasleys if my father was the pregnant one. Probably not. He's a great bloke, but I really can't see him dealing with morning sickness, swollen feet and labor pains. Or so my mother said."

He finishes his drink and goes on. "This is what I heard since I was a wee lad: we, men, are strong and can stand pain and torture, but we wouldn't be able to carry a child in our bellies and another in our arms, dealing with back pain and varicose veins. Or to cook dinner with a heaving stomach."

With a last laugh, he concludes, "Hey, after all that, I'm glad we can't do it!"

Nanny Ogg takes a large draught of the beer she's managed to persuade someone to get her again. People seem to have rather mixed thoughts about this one, including the one young man who's quite up for the idea. Better be careful with her words then. Funny, she thinks, as she peers at the bottom of the glass- having delivered so many babies in her life she'd have thought blokes would be glad to have the responsibility given to someone else. It was inevitably a long, messy, painful process and the village's men let the women get on with the later stages with a sort of deep respect and queasiness.
"Some funny things happen up in the Ramtops. A rooster up in Skund way lays eggs every once in a while, bit embarassing for him but the family's got an extra egg-layer from it so he's never gotten the chop. Never could work it out myself, but ours is not to wot." She scratches her head. "Dunno about human blokes. The thing with blokes is, I don't know as they'd be much good at being pregnant. You've got to remember to not go running all over the place mending cart wheels and picking up pigs and things, and when you're a woman the guys and other girls do all that but if you were a bloke it'd be harder. I know I wouldn't trust our Jason to do it, and our Shawn can't carry a drink without spilling it so I don't know what he'd do with a babby" It seemed straight forward enough in principle, but women seemed to have an inherent knowledge of what to do when pregnant. Men could do more than enough things that women couldn't; this felt like one that should be left to the girls. It was true, however, that the men around here seemed very different to the ones at home, so maybe they'd be better at it.

Susan sighs irritably and doesn't stand up this time. She's tossed it around in her head, and she keeps going back to the same point.

"Look, like Lyta said, there are species like the Deneth that already have it. It's perfectly natural for them. And for my part, if humans could naturally do it, we wouldn't be having this discussion because it'd already be part of our thinking about what male and female bodies can do. Hell, it'd be a serious breakdown of various gender concepts throughout history. But since it's not something any human man is born able to do... I can't get past knowing it'd take some serious genetic engineering for a man to be born capable of conceiving, or carrying a baby, or birthing it, or any combination of those. And it'd take major bio-engineering to change an existing adult male that way, and..." There's a long pause as she wrestles with getting past the strong emotions. "I have some very strong personal reactions against the idea because of all that. Not that I wouldn't wish menstrual cramps on some of my ex-boyfriends, especially a wonderful fellow who turned out to be violently anti-alien, but tampering with the human genome to that extent scares the hell out of me. I don't believe it should be done unless it's a last resort to save lives. Making men pregnant isn't that."

She lets out a huge breath to help shake that off, and adds, "On another note, I just got hired as a 'mystery shopper.' You would think that's some kind of detective, but it doesn't actually mean I shop for mysteries. I'm pretending to be a regular customer while I evaluate various aspects of a business. If you see me around town, try not to ask if I'm working. I'm not supposed to tip the employees off because it'll affect how they behave. I might be able to get some of you meals or clothes sometime, though, because they reimburse me for purchases. Just don't ask me to help anyone satisfy pregnancy cravings or get maternity clothes."

He stands up, hands clenched at his sides, trembling a little from suppressed rage.
( The last straw. )

Dee walks into the café, still dressed in his jogging clothes. He's tired and thirsty and, with a bit of luck, may be able to get a pint from the waitress. It'll be warm, of course, but he's getting used to it by now.

He's oblivious to his environment, enjoying his pint, when he hears the subject for discussion. He's so shocked that he sputters beer all over the table. At first, he listens to what the others have to say, getting more and more horrified about the sheer idea of a man pregnant. Finally, unable to sit still, he stands up.

"Male pregnancy? Are you out of your mind? I can't imagine anything freakier than this."

He tries hard to visualize a pregnant man, with a flat chest and a big belly, and the image of the Chief, naked, his beer-belly shaking as he walks, comes to his mind. With a shocked face, he sits down again and asks for another pint.

*curious*
When you say male pregnancy, do you mean having a man simply carry the baby? Or having men being able to create a baby and bring it to term without the involvement of a witch?
*sounds vaguely wistful about the latter*

The first one is relatively straightforward, of course. I was on the research team at St Mungo's that looked into ways of being able to remove the foetus and it's associated bits from a witch's body so that she could still fit into her normal clothes, or continue working with toxic potions, or whatever it is she wanted to do that being pregnant interfered with.

*smiles*
It's roughly the same concept as splinching, when you Apparate. Except splinching isn't very precise and can be quite painful.

*thinks about it*
The way we looked at it, the foetus would be locked down to a secure location and surrounded by a ward of protective spells, but in theory, there'd be nothing to keep the mother-to-be from attaching the foetus to a man, and making him take his turn at carrying it around while she went about her business.

But you'd still need a witch to assist with actually creating the foetus and then delivering it when the time came.

*shrugs elegantly*
It's possible that research has progressed rather a lot further than when I was involved with it, but as I recall, our funding was cut. And as we were in the middle of a war, there weren't a lot of expectant witches who were prepared to take part in the trials.

*has been very careful not to look at Regulus this whole time*
Er... any particular reason you're asking, Prongs?

Xel comes in a little tanned, chapped, scratched, and windburned about the face, looking like he's been swimming through thickets and didn't mind it at all. He puts down the manila folder he's carrying, orders a mug of cocoa, and gets rather confused listening to Holmes before asking what the topic is. The answer freezes his face into a funny shape.

"Well," he says, trying with equal effort to be diplomatic and to get his eyes the same size again, "I suppose, if it happened so that it was impossible to control who got who pregnant, then it would be fair. It's hard to argue against a system that might make rapists and overbearing kings-of-their-homes and the carelessly promiscuous stop to think for a second before giving women and other people trouble and spreading disease. It's certainly impossible to blame anyone for thinking the other half of the population should have the same chance to be exposed to the intense, long-term suffering with almost unavoidable and even more long-term financial complications that they do."

He takes his hot chocolate with a smile of thanks, and takes a sip. Mmm, burning. "All the same, I can't say a project to enable that chance is something I'd support. Whether you call it God or Nature, the creating force in this universe shared a taste of its power of creation with women, and not with men. To those of you who call it Nature, that may not seem important, but I call Her Divine, and I know Her to be powerful beyond comprehension, and... anou... how can I put this... from what I've seen, She does not deal kindly with those who try to steal divine power She hasn't granted them. Sometimes it takes a while," he allows, with a little smile that says he's often enjoyed the wait, and perhaps not always passively, "for Her to think of something ironic enough to be satisfying."

Shrugging, he adds, "I suppose if someone wants to pray for it, that's their business. But I really feel that trying to make it happen in any other way would be asking for trouble. Even in that way, even if it was only given the man who prayed for it and not other people who didn't want it, he'd be in for a lot of unpleasantness on the human level when the rest of the world found out, as it always eventually does. Mages (or, that is, scientists, here, I suppose) descending on him, other men wanting to kill him for giving the women in their lives ideas, probably a lot of women wanting to destroy him for trying to usurp their power, especially if they felt obliged to smile about it as a miracle... it would be a very brave thing to ask for, that's all. A person would have to be prepared for the fallout on many fronts."

He sits rigid in his chair, not quite able to believe that he has heard correctly. He smiles thinly.

“I’m not surprised someone mentioned sea horses. As far as is known, they are the only species on Earth in which the male carries and bears the young. However, you can’t just cite that as an example and infer that that makes it acceptable. You must continue with the fact that, after birth, parental care ends and the babies are left to fend for themselves.” He tosses a dried seahorse that he purchased at a souvenir stand onto the table. “So, unless you wish this to be the fate of humanity, I suggest we maintain the status quo.”

*Harry is a bit dumbfounded by this months topic. He scratches his head, feeling vaguely uncomfortable but not exactly sure why. He's struggling very hard between his innate queasiness at the idea and his desire not to be judgemental.*

Er… It's not possible, is it? I mean I suppose there could be some kind of magic I've never heard of…

*shrugs*

I never really thought about it. What would be the point? Are there men out there who want to get pregnant?

Where would the baby come out? *looks a bit sick at the thought*

Well. I guess I can't see any reason to be against it. If someone wants to have a baby and they happen to be male— well, sure. Why not? Theoretically, of course. To each his own.

*can't help but glance over at Rabastan* *goes pale at the visual image of Rabastan heavily pregnant*

*pushes hair out of his face and fidgets*

Don't think I'd want to do it myself. Is that selfish? Seems like it would be too hard to balance on a broom. And too dangerous.

*sighs and crosses his arms*

So. I guess what I'm saying is it's something interesting to think about, but, personally, I'm perfectly happy to leave pregnancy to women.