Singapore Whore School Pt. 01

Singapore had always been known for its no nonsense approach to social ills, so it wasn't a surprise when the government announced the institution of "morality schools" to stem the tide of unwed motherhood. The management of the schools was handed over to a former minister of education, P.T. Wang, who had established his reputation during a teacher's strike years earlier when he fired all the protesting teachers and even had a few paddled for insubordination. And so the morality schools were opened and quickly populated by young women from all over Singapore and Malaysia who had gotten into "trouble" at the hands of oversexed employers or lying boyfriends. Mostly the girls were from the lower class whose families were unable to bear the shame or the social stigma of unwed pregnancy. So they arrived in buses from the surrounding cities and villages; some waddling from their belly loads and others barely showing, with the idea that they would be reindoctrinated in virtue and shown the error of their ways while preparing for the birth of their bastards.

Mr. Wang was always there to greet each new busload. He would stand on the porch of the school with his hands held behind his back eyeing the woman with a searing expression. On this day he saw two who were laughing, and he quickly laid down the law.

"Anybody I see smiling or joking will tote water buckets for a week!" he snapped.

The young women quickly became serious and lined up in their bare feet and loose house dresses for review. Mr. Wang moved to a place in front of them and walked down the line, stopping only when he had reached a tall, pretty, Malay girl whose huge belly projected out like a shelf. She directed her eyes at him briefly and then directed them back to the ground. He stood there and stared at her. Was she the one he had seen smiling? He moved away then.

"My name is Mr. Wang!" he started, "I will be managing your experience here. What I require is absolute commitment! There will be no foolishness, no playing around!"

He stopped to look at a slightly built Chinese girl who appeared to be overtaken by shame from the redness of her face.

"I'm sure you all have your stories, your reasons, your excuses for being here! But I don't want to hear them! You've made your choices and now you have to suffer the consequences! All actions have consequences! That is what you are here to learn! In the coming months, you all will give birth and when you feel that pain you will understand that this is no joke! Playtime is over!"

After several more minutes of this diatribe, the women were dismissed and led to their barracks. They were shown in by a stout, uniformed woman who carried a riding crop in her hand. They soon found out what it was used for when two of the girls got into an argument over a bunk bed. Their bickering was quickly turned to silence when the crop was laid across one of their backsides. It rang out loudly and the girl who was hit collapsed to the floor in pain.

"Big girls on the bottom beds, smaller girls on the top!" the guard admonished.

The tall, pretty, Malay girl and the petite Chinese took a bunk together, while a Filipino girl took the lower bunk next to them. The three began to talk as soon as the guard left.

"Did you see that!" the pretty Malay girl said to the Filipina, "She hit her with that leather thing hard!"

"They use that on horses, so I guess they're going to use it to train us." The Filipina replied sarcastically.

"I'm not a horse! Nor am I a naughty child!" the Chinese girl complained indignantly.

"Hi, I'm Teresa!" the long-haired Filipina initiated.

"I'm Joan." The Chinese one replied.

"I'm Sri." The Malay girl followed.

"How far are you?" Joan asked Teresa as she gazed over at her basketball-sized belly.

"Thirty weeks." she replied with a sardonic smirk.

"How about you?" Teresa inquired of Joan whose bump was barely visible.

"Eighteen."

"And you?" Teresa asked Sri.

"Thirty-six." The large-eyed beauty replied with a dismayed sigh.

"Was he a European?" Teresa pressed as to the identity of the father.

Sri's face angled down in demur discomfort at this question. She merely shook her head in response.

"A lot of the girls who worked for those Europeans ended up pregnant in the Philippines!" Teresa informed them.

"How did you get put here if you're Filipino?" Joan asked her.

"I became a citizen of Singapore when I married this guy a few years ago. It was just a fake marriage so I could stay here." She explained.

"Is he the...?" Joan started.

"No! He's not the father!" Teresa corrected with exasperation, "I got raped by some bastard one night. He put something in my drink. I just remember waking up the next day alone in a hotel with his semen leaking out of me."

Joan put her hand over her mouth in shock.

"Oh my god!" Sri exclaimed, "That's terrible!"

"It's terrible for all of us!" Teresa assured them, "What happened with you, Joan?"

The young Chinese woman's face went red with this question.

"He was my English teacher." She admitted with downcast eyes.

"A foreigner?" Teresa weighed in.

"No, a Singaporean man... Chinese like me." Joan managed to confess.

"Another opportunistic bastard!" Teresa proclaimed.

"No, he was nice." Joan quickly corrected, "He lost his job when they found out."

"Well, he should have been punished. He broke the trust." Sri chimed in.

Joan angled her head to one side as her gaze became distant.

"He broke many things." she said wistfully.

Teresa looked over at Sri. Did Joan actually believe she was in love with this guy?

"We are the only ones being punished here! And for the crimes of men!" Teresa righteously asserted.

"Shhh!" Sri warned as she looked around the barracks.

"Don't worry, these other girls no doubt have similar stories!" Teresa went on, "They have been victimized by everyone they trusted: Authority figures, family members, even perfect strangers!"

"My father condemned me as a slut." Joan added then, her expression still distant.

"We have all been condemned! All the shame has been thrown on us! They brought us here to hide us away! They don't want to see us because that's just a reminder of how immoral their men are!"

"Shhhh! Not so loud!" Sri warned her again.

"Is it not true?! What about you? How did this happen to you?" Teresa pressed Sri.

"It just happened because people are weak and not following God!" She replied.

"Are you blaming yourself? That's what they want! Don't do that!"

"Okay! Okay! Let's not argue!" Sri complained wearily before laying back on her bed.

Teresa let out of puff of air.

"Sorry. I just get angry when I think of all the stuff that Mr. Wang said to us today. Accusing us of being playgirls!"

"It's all politics like you said." Joan added.

Teresa and Joan laid back on their beds as well after this and they were all soon sleeping the troubled sleep of social outcasts.

The next morning, they were awakened early and taken, after a small breakfast of fried rice, to a textile facility. Along the way they saw girls in advanced stages of maternity grimacing under the weight of water yokes, their sinewy but thin legs shaking as they plodded through the mud beneath hundred-pound loads.

"I guess he wasn't kidding about making girls carry water all day!" Joan remarked to Sri as they passed.

"That's so cruel." Sri replied, placing her light-brown hand atop her belly shelf.

At the facility the women were put to work on a production line sewing tags onto shirts after being trained by a foreign man. Joan and Teresa caught on quickly, but Sri was completely lost. The Arab man had to watch her and correct her mistakes repeatedly until he finally lost patience.

"Alhamdulillah! You need to hold down the flap! Like this!" he yelled as he took the garment into his own hands and demonstrated the technique again.

Sri smiled nervously and nodded. She tried it again and the tag once again came out crooked. The Arab threw his hands in the air and began to curse in his mother tongue. He walked away but returned moments later with a new job for her.

"You will be working as a packer. Come this way!" He instructed.

Teresa and Joan watched the whole thing and quietly laughed. But soon they were talking to other girls on the production line and found out about Mr. Wang and his "assistant managers". According to these women, Wang was putting the free-spirited girls who giggled a lot to work as water yoke carriers and was sometimes even making them tote sand! They said he would work them without mercy until their happy personalities fell away and they were near collapse. Then he would bring them in and do some final "conditioning" that left them little more than zombies. To Joan and Teresa these accounts sounded like urban legends, so they laughed them off, that is, until they saw one of the yoke carriers being guided into the facility by the arm. She was a pretty Chinese girl about eight months gone and soaked in sweat. She hobbled as she walked, no doubt from callouses on her filthy, bare feet. Her face told the story of abject pain and desolation. The Arab manager followed her as she was led into a back room and that was the last they saw of him for a while.

"There goes another one!" one of the veteran line workers commented.

The woman guard who had led the girl into the building emerged from the room moments later so no third person witnessed what went on inside the room. Only a security camera was there to bear witness to what happened. And what it recorded was a high angle shot of the girl getting up on what appeared to be a stainless-steel food preparation table as the Arab handed her a glass of water. After she gulped it down, she was allowed to lay down flat on her back. The Arab then cleaned her feet and rubbed some sort of lotion on them and then moved his hands up her legs. The girl laid there limply covering her face with her arms as the manager worked her sweat-soaked panties down and off. He shifted up to the midpoint of the table and slid his left hand under her dress and opened her legs with the other. His right hand moved over her hairy mound soon after this as his left slid over her bulging belly and massaged one of her engorged breasts. His middle finger penetrated her a moment later. Her head only turned slightly to the right with this first invasion of his finger. Then her nipple grew large and ejaculated milk when he pinched it repeatedly. The Arab manager closed his eyes and seemed to fantasize while his finger explored her slick cunt. Finally, he stopped and rolled her over and had her get on her knees with her face flat on the table. Then he disrobed, climbed up onto the table and slid his hard, thick member inside her from behind. He began to thrust into her violently after this, with an abandon that was hardly controlled. The girl received the mad collisions passively until the manager's climax was achieved in a howling spasm and he fell back and out of her still erect. The Arab got himself cleaned up after this and dressed while the girl collapsed flat onto her stomach in a seeming bid to sleep. Another man entered the room through a side door then and the girl was led sluggishly away.

"They've been in there for a while!" Teresa observed suspiciously from her place on the line after fifteen minutes had elapsed.

She and Joan continued to watch the door as they worked until the Arab boss finally reemerged alone.

"Where is she?" Joan asked with concern.

"You won't see her again." A girl down the line commented, "She'll be taken to the ranch."

"The ranch?" Joan interjected.

"They call it a clinic, but it's actually a harem." the worker across from them clarified.

"A harem!" Teresa cut in, "They'd never get away with that!"

"But they do!" the woman insisted.

Joan and Teresa traded stunned expressions. They weren't sure what to believe now. Later that night at the barracks, the three of them sat on the two bottom bunks and debated the news.

"Do you think Wang is that much of a pervert?" Joan posited.

"There's only one way to find out." Teresa responded.

"How?" Sri chimed in.

"I'll get myself put on yoke duty!"

"No!"

"Just listen! After they put me there I'll pretend to be sick or something and pass out! Then they'll have to bring me to this clinic, right!"

"What if they don't?!" Sri warned.

"I'll just keep acting! They'll have to do it or risk getting reported!"

"This is a crazy idea!" Joan argued, "How will you get out?"

"I have a plan!" she assured them.

The next day while on their way to the mess hall, Teresa began to sing and dance around raucously as they all filed past Wang's office. Wang was already on the porch sipping his coffee and witnessed the whole scene. His fat face went sour.

"Put that dumb bitch on yoke duty!" he ordered with a pointed finger.

So, Teresa was taken out of the line and escorted to the compound's well where she joined a group of other yoke bearers. She lifted the two, five-gallon buckets with relative ease and started for the soybean field along with the others. However, halfway to her destination she pretended to stumble and fell to the ground in feigned agony.

"My ankle!" she yelled as she clutched her leg.

A female supervisor approached then.

"What's the problem?" she barked.

"I think I broke my ankle!" Teresa pleaded as she writhed.

"Get her up and take her to the infirmary." The woman commanded when two attendants arrived.

Teresa hoped they were taking her to the right place as they placed her arms over their shoulders. They carried her toward the back of the compound and after ten minutes they arrived at a building that stood alone in a bamboo tree outcropping. When they got inside it was obvious it was a hospital of some kind from the white curtains that separated the beds and the women in medical outfits. She was brought to an office and lowered into a chair. A nurse entered soon afterwards.

"What happened here?" she said.

"I broke my ankle!" Teresa blurted with a grimace.

The woman knelt down, lifted her foot and gripped the ankle joint.

"Ouch!" Teresa complained as the nurse tried to turn it.

"We'll need to take an x-ray." She concluded.

The attendants departed and Teresa was given crutches to move about the clinic.

"Come this way." The nurse instructed.

Teresa followed her out into the open ward where various girls occupied many of the beds. Behind one curtained off bed she heard cries and then a shrill scream. The worst ideas filled her mind until an exiting nurse pulled the curtain aside and she saw a dirty yoke carrier occupying the bed in the throes of labor, the crowning head of her child emerging from her fully dilated vagina. It seemed the hard work they had to endure made the babies come faster.

They continued past this scene to the x-ray room and soon the nurse was viewing the bones of her right foot. She shook her head as she scanned the image.

"Don't see any breaks." She stated.

"Are you sure?" Teresa protested, persisting with her ruse.

"Yes, must just be a bad sprain."

With this Teresa was led to a bed and given an aspirin. After the nurse departed, she pulled back the curtain between the beds and saw the girl next to her sitting up and staring off into space. She waved and the girl slowly turned her head towards her.

"How long have you been here?" she asked her.

The girl only shook her head and looked away again. Teresa wondered if she had been drugged, but then glanced down at the girl's wrists and saw the stitches.

That night after the medical staff left, Teresa got up and checked the outer door. It was locked. She checked a metal screened window next.

"It's locked." A voice came from over her shoulder, "They're all locked."

Teresa turned around and found a short, portly girl standing behind her.

"Hi, I'm Teresa.

"I'm Ming."

"Hi Ming." she returned, glancing down at her belly.

"I've already had my baby. I know it's hard to tell." Ming replied with a bit of embarrassment.

The voice of the girl who had been in labor rose faintly in the darkened ward then.

"My baby!" it remorsefully cried, "Where is my baby!

Both of the young women turned toward the voice and then back to each other.

"What's going on here?" Teresa queried.

"They take the babies."

"Where?"

"No one knows, but they're never seen again."

"What! That's illegal!"

"Yes."

"But this place is run by the government!"

"They force the girls to sign them over... most of them." She reported, glancing back toward the whimpering girl.

This was a whole new level of criminality Teresa realized. But she still wanted to know if the young women there were being used for sex.

"Do you know about a place here called 'the ranch' or 'the clinic'?"

"All I know is the girls who can't work anymore carrying water disappear like the babies do." She informed her.

"Yes, we saw one of them get brought in the other day. The workers there at the factory said they get sent to this ranch for sex work."

Ming shrugged.

"It's possible."

Teresa was surprised by her indifference.

"What about you? What's going to happen to you?"

"I'm too fat and ugly for that kind of assignment." She scoffed, "They'll let me go in a week or so. They got my baby. That's what they wanted."

Ming went back to her bed and sat down. Teresa followed.

"Do you want to keep your baby?" Ming asked her after a long silence.

"Of course! It's mine!" Teresa replied.

"Then you better find a way to escape from here."

Ming's head angled to the floor and she began to weep after this. Teresa sat down next to her and put her arm around her.

"Don't worry! We're going to find a way to stop this!" she assured her.

The next morning, nurses came around and placed trays of hot food on their beds. This was far better than marching to the mess hall! But Teresa noticed the girl across from her talking to the nurse who brought the food. She kept looking over at Teresa meanly as she spoke to the nurse in Chinese. The nurse nodded and glanced toward her as well before departing. Five minutes later, the two attendants who had brought her in appeared and hustled her out of bed and out of the building.

"What are you doing!" Teresa complained on the way out, "I can't walk!"

"Apparently you were able to walk just fine last night!" one of them announced.

She continued to plead her case, but it was no use, she was taken to the sand pit and loaded up with pails of cement for the school they were building a quarter mile away. The flexible wooden yoke bent sharply under the weight and Teresa was barely able to keep it across her shoulders. She and the other expectant mothers cried and groaned with each step down the gravel road to the construction site. One girl fell out and went into labor by the side of the road on the first day. Another baby for the baby mill, Teresa realized. But she decided that she was not going to continue with this and take the chance of having her baby there, so on day three, she dumped her cement load, fell to the ground, and feigned exhaustion. She rolled and cried and whimpered even after she was ordered to rise.

"Get up you lazy whore!" the attendant shouted.

Teresa refused all the orders and took all the kicks to her backside they gave her. Finally, they had had enough.

"Take her to the ranch!" came the order from the supervisor.

They got her up and she was tearfully escorted away to the factory where they had worked that one day. It seemed the Arab manager there had dibs on all the newcomers. When they brought her through the door she was just as filthy and sweat-drenched as the other girl they had seen. The Arab's eyes got big when he noticed her. They brought her to the back room and left her there to wait for him. She scanned the space looking for a weapon, but he entered soon afterward.