The Settlement

[Sandra B]

Chapter 140.  Jessica Greystone.

At two o’clock that afternoon, the boys found themselves following Betty Beatson along the corridor that led to Jessica Greystone’s office.  They had caught a glimpse of some wonderfully incongruous outfits apparently returning from lunch, and been stared at in return.  The study had a plain, unpanelled door of some anonymous wood, painted only with the initials “J.G.” in silver letters.
“Wait there, you two.  Backs to the wall.  Stand up straight!  You’re ladies now, remember, not slouching yobbos.”
The phrase “slouching yobbos” produced a snort of unexpected laughter from Matthew, quickly aborted by an angry glance from Miss Beatson.
“Quiet!  How dare you
outside Miss Greystone’s study, an’ all.”
She opened the door.  They heard, “they’re here, Miss Greystone
”
“Leave them out there.  I’ll call them when I’m ready.”
Miss Beatson exited rear first, like a servant leaving the presence of a duchess.  She closed the door softly.  “Right, wait here you two.  The principal will call you when she’s ready, an’ you can go straight in.  Behave yourselves,” she added, as she departed to her other duties.
As soon as she was round the corner, the boys looked at each other and grinned.  But at that moment, there was a woosh and a crack and a howl from inside the office which froze their blood.  They stared at each other.
“What was
” began Matthew.  But he was interrupted by a repeat of the sound, followed this time by a scream of pain, then sobbing, and a boy’s voice, choking and pleading.  The blow was repeated another four times, while the voice became hysterical with agony, and then, after the punishment was over, declined into a whimpering, blubbering refrain.
Miss Greystone’s voice rang out over the other.  “Right.  You two can come in now.  Now, please!”
Philip turned the door handle gingerly, and they entered Miss Greystone’s study, wide-eyed.  She was standing to the left of her desk, which faced the door, holding a slightly curved white cane.  The first thing that caught their attention was a pair of bare pink legs, with blue panties around the ankles, surmounted by a plump, trembling bottom, criss-crossed with red weals, in the middle of her desk.
“I wanted you to see this.  This is what happens to boys who disobey, and to boys who are disrespectful to the staff.  This one’s lucky.  Aren’t you, Denise?  As it’s his first offence, Denise has been reprimanded in my office instead of in front of the whole school.”
It was the first time Philip had heard the Institute described as a “school”.  But it seemed that its purpose was to educate – or re-educate – and it was clearly being run as a school.
“You may go to nurse and have some cream put on your buttocks,” went on Miss Greystone, busying herself with releasing Denise, who had been strapped down across the desk by his wrists and ankles.  “Then straight back to class.  And stop that snivelling.”
“Yes, m-miss
”  Denise pulled up his panties feelingly.  His face was scarlet with pain and embarrassment.  He limped out of the office as quickly as was tolerable.  They heard his footsteps retreating down the corridor. 
Philip surveyed the room.  The desk was equipped on the far side with cuffs on short chains, one at each corner.  The front was solid, with the leather strap which Miss Greystone had just unbuckled fixed to the centre just above the floor.  Not only a desk for working at, then, but the perfect whipping-bench.  The room was painted a drab green, and all the furniture was of dark oak – even the stick-stand, into which Miss Greystone was now sliding her cane, to take its place amongst others of various lengths and colours.  Behind her desk was a tall, multi-paned window, framed in heavy green velvet curtains, out of which Philip could see a green playing field, bright under the afternoon sunlight. 
They stood before her desk, while she seated herself in the old Windsor chair, facing them.
“Well.  I see Miss Buttons has made a start.  She warned me Matilda had a long road ahead of her.”  She smirked.  “I can see she was correct.  But you will find
you will both find
that, with application and determination, a few weeks will bring great transformations.  You will come to realise
you especially, Matilda
how
” – she searched for the right word – “
how unpleasant boys of your age can be, and how the adoption of womanly values and behaviour can make you realise the possibilities of a purer, more ethereal, way of life.  I have never liked young men
  If I had my way
”  But here she seemed to realise she was in danger of letting down her guard, and, flashing her audience a suspicious look, quickly changed tack.
“So
yes
you will be sharing a room on C corridor – that’s on the first floor – and you will be supervised by Miss Beatson, whom you will obey unquestioningly.  I believe you are to be joined by a third trainee tomorrow.  Miss Beatson will give you a printed copy of the rules.  Read them and follow them to the letter.  Be prompt for lessons and meals, or you may be turned away, or sent to see me.  You will wear whichever outfit you are instructed to.  You will be informed of your outfit for the next day the previous evening.  Night attire is also prescribed.  Do not be tempted to engage in any
distasteful activities.  The punishment will be severe.  Do not attempt to leave the premises.  It has only happened once.  That boy we dressed in thin panties and stockings a rather pretty training bra and chained to the wall outside the front gate for a day.  He provided some amusement for the girls from Our Lady’s Preparatory just down the road.  By six o’clock he was begging us to bring him in, and swearing he’d stay here forever if we wanted.  So beware.”  She bestowed on them her own peculiar version of a warm smile, a grim, steely stare, intended to drive home the lesson.  “Here you are two girls, Philippa and Matilda.  Remember that always, and with luck you may win one of our generous end-of-term awards.  I hope you enjoy your stay.  Now, go back to the dressing-room, as quickly as you can, so that Miss Buttons can start her work.  Dismiss.”
Once out of the office, they breathed a sigh of relief.
“Shit, Philip, I’m gonna follow the rules, whatever.  I don’t wanna end up over that desk, I can tell you.”
“No.  Nor outside chained to the wall.”
“Right.”

On the way back to the dressing-room, they passed what was clearly a classroom – they could see a dozen boys seated inside, and one in a blue dress at the front of the class apparently demonstrating deportment.  But what caught their attention was not inside, but outside, standing next to the door with his back to the wall; a boy perhaps a year younger than they, dressed in a figure-hugging shiny red dress, fishnet tights and heels, with a broad gold choker padlocked at the front, bright red lipstick, blusher, and rather too much mascara, some of which had been washed down his cheeks in long dirty streaks by his tears.  Philip checked up and down the corridor, and made sure he couldn’t be seen from inside the room.
“What’s wrong, mate?  Why are you out here?” he whispered.
“She threw me out
” he sobbed, “said I was misbehaving
”
“In what way?”
“I’m supposed to be the tart this week, an’ I don’t wanna be
  I was just trying to get Suki off me.  He was putting his hand up my skirt...”
“What?  The tart?  What do you
?”
“Phil – someone’s coming!” hissed Matthew.
“Okay – catch up later.  What’s your name?  Where’s your room?”
“David
I mean Daphne.  C4.”
“We’re on C too.  Okay
later.”
They quickly resumed their journey, exchanging questioning glances.
“Tart?  What’s that about, you reckon?”
“No idea, Matty.  But I don’t like the sound of it
”

[Sandra B]

Chapter 141.  The Tomboy.

They were with Sally for the whole afternoon.  The first two hours were dedicated to the boys’ bodies, and inevitably Matthew received the bulk of the attention. 
“I’m gonna 'ave to use a mixture of therapies,” she said, “wax, creams, ‘lectrical and IPL.  Your ‘air is quite dark and I bin told to remove it all – ‘cept yer thatch, in course.  Now you’ll need to take off everything
and I mean, everything
”
With the assistance of Betty Beatson and a girl called Annie, apparently highly experienced and quite lacking inhibitions, Miss Buttons succeeded in depriving him of pretty much every hair on his body and face.  It was when she was working on his eyebrows that he asked, nervously,
“This isn’t permanent, is it?”
“Not yet.  You’ll need to come back for two or free more sessions.  Don’t worry, they’re all booked in, and you’ll be told when in plenty of time.”
“But
”
“Keep still, Matilda.  I’m nearly finished.  After this I'll do yer 'air."
Philip was an easier proposition.  His body and facial hair, which was fair anyway, had barely reappeared.  His wig was removed, his head re-shaved, and a new one, fairer than the last, the hair straighter and thicker and pageboy style.  As for Matthew, Sally had had an idea for she called a “way cool look”.  His hair was washed in cool water, given a few splashes of red colour, moisturised, and then, bit by bit, twisted around a very slim curling iron until his head was covered with tight little black and red curls.  Philip watched with amusement as his friend was transformed.  Matthew himself watched himself in the mirror with a mixture of fascination and anxiety.   

It was half-past four when they were at last ready to be dressed.  The boys, both quite naked, were looking rather self-conscious, so Sally handed out two pairs of nice silky panties to spare their blushes.  Philip’s were yellow, Matthew’s scarlet.  Then came the selection of outfits.  Philip was no problem.  There were so many things he would have been happy to wear.  So when Sally selected a pair of soft, opaque yellow tights, a pale yellow bra and blouse, and a short flared skirt of crisp black satin, he grabbed them eagerly and went to change.
“You can pick yer own shoes, Philip, an’ any jewellery yer wants.  Then I’ll do yer makeup.”  She turned to Matthew, looking him up and down till he began to fidget with embarrassment.  “Maffew...Matilda
I wonder
you’re gonna be a sort of boyish girl, ain’t yer?  I mean
”  She glanced down at his well-filled panties, making him blush to the roots of his hair.  “Yeah
 so I fink we’ll go for the tomboy look.  Sort of ‘ad it in mind when I did yer ‘air.”  She riffled through the clothes piled on the counter.  “What about this?  No
even that’s too girlie, I fink
  Ah, this is better!  Simple but
cute.  A bit gofic, like.”  She had extracted a couple of fairly skimpy looking articles, and now held them up against the nervous Matthew’s semi-naked body.  There was a cropped black knitted cotton top with three-quarter length sleeves and a high round neck, a pair of bright red metallic spandex shorts, and a pair of black fishnet tights.
She thrust the tights at him.  “’Ere.  Get these on.”
Matthew stammered a few weak words of protest, which Sally purported not to hear.
“Urry up, then
   I don’t know, you boys.  You’ll ‘ave to get used to girls’ stuff soon enough.”
She helped him pull up the tights, and picked at them till they were straight.  They had a low waistband.  “We don’t want ‘em peeping out over your shorts, do we?  Not cool.  Okay, now these.”
Trembling slightly, Matthew stepped into the shorts and pulled them up.  They fitted snugly, the waistband a couple of inches below his navel, the legs cutely short, with thicker leg bands which gripped the tops of his thighs.  He caught a glimpse of himself in one of the wall mirrors.  The metallic spandex gleamed and sparkled in the bright dressing-room lights. They really left nothing to the imagination.  There was a single seam running from the front of the waist to the back, separating both his buttocks and his balls.  This seam, and the tightness at the thigh, coaxed his pen-is into a roughly forty-five degree position, where it lay confined, like a plump, straight sausage under the taut, shiny material.
“Perfect!” cried Sally.  “Now the top.”
The top, when pulled down as far as it would go, fell short of his navel from above by a good four inches.  Sally clapped her hands, and, waving aside his anxiety, proceeded to buckle on a studded black leather choker, a matching two-buckle wrist strap, after which she gave him a pair of black fingerless kid leather gloves to put on. 
“’Ere Maffew, sit down ‘ere, an’ I’ll get yer boots.”
Matthew sat, wriggling his fingers into his new gloves.  Sally fetched a pair of black lace-up chunky ankle boots from the boot and shoe cupboard, and, kneeling before him, placed them on his feet with the expert manipulation of a shoe store assistant, and laced them up tightly.  The poor bewildered boy was finally presented with a short leather jacket without a zip, so that it couldn’t be done up.  Philip looked at him, both amused and impressed.
“Wow, Matty.  You look pretty cool, mate.  You’re gonna cause a bit of a stir around here I reckon.  ‘Specially in those cute little hot pants!”
Matthew was starting to say something but Sally interrupted.
“’Ave a walk about, darlin’.”
Obedient to her instructions, Matthew walked gingerly up and down  the room, getting used to his new boots, which had added a couple of inches to his height.  He was disturbed to discover that the combined effect of the slippery panties and the taut spandex made his member slip up and down through a narrow arc with every step.  He bit his lip and contrived to take shorter steps, which earned him a reprimand from Sally.  But eventually she was satisfied with his appearance and deportment.  There was a gleam in her eye as she remarked, almost to herself, “Good, Matilda, very good.  I think Miss Greystone’s going to be very happy.”  Miss Beatson smiled and nodded slowly, whilst Annie expressed her approbation with a malicious grin.
Sally had spent longer than she anticipated on the boys’ transformation, and so the final makeover was rather hurried.  Philip got some yellow eyeshadow and peach lip gloss, Matthew red with black lipstick, followed by a touch of mascara.
“Annie?  Can you do their nails, love?  I gotta get goin’.  Yellow for Philippa, for Matilda
oh, red will be fine.  Right, boys.  Annie ‘ere will do yer nails and sort out the rest of yer wardrobes an’ stash 'em in yer room later on.  These are yer outfits for tomorrer and until Miss Greystone decides uvverwise, okay?  I gotta rush.  See yer in a few days!”
And she was gone.
“Right you two, out please,” piped up Miss Beatson, who had preserved a silent deference throughout the whole process.  You can have a late dinner and then off to your room.  C3, all right?  Got that?”

Dinner was officially over, so fortunately Matthew didn’t have to put in a public appearance that day.  They ate together in the empty canteen.  They said little, both absorbing the events of the day.  Afterwards they hurried up to C3.  They were pleasantly surprised.  It was a very large room, well-decorated with pale green walls, a wood floor, and a big rug in the centre.  There were two big windows on the far wall looking out over the lawns at the back of the house.  Their beds were also on the window wall, one at each end, each just beyond the adjoining window, each equipped with a bedside cabinet and light.  On the left wall were two chests of drawers, and on the right a folding table with three chairs, and a door marked "Bathroom".  The corridor wall was mainly occupied by wardrobes with mirror doors, but at the farthest end from the door was another bed.
“I guess the extra bed’s for our roommate,” remarked Philip.  Even so, the place is big enough, isn’t it?”
“Yeah
it’s great, actually,” said Matthew, checking out the bathroom.  “There's a shower an everything in here, and lovely pink tiles.  I didn’t imagine it would be this nice
”
“So you like it?”
“Yeah
I could live in a place like this
”
“What, as a girl?” Philip laughed.
“No, that’s the snag.”  He caught sight of himself in one of the mirrors.  “Not that I look much like a girl at the moment.”
“Do you mind that?”
“No
not when I’m with you
”
Now Philip was back as a girl, Matthew was beginning to feel romantic again.  He took Philip’s hand and put his arm round him and gave him a hug.  Philip gasped as he felt the entire length of his friend’s member press against his belly.  He wasn’t sure he was ready for another round of lovemaking so soon, but he didn’t want to hurt Matthew, so he decided to give him a quick peck on the cheek and release himself from his embrace.  But Matthew took the peck as encouragement, and pressed himself more firmly against his friend.  Now Philip could actually feel it swelling and hardening against him, and to his consternation he felt his own body spontaneously responding.  He glanced sideways at their reflection in the mirror.  A few months ago he could not have conceived of such a situation, but now
  And Matthew did look incredibly hot in that little outfit.  He allowed his right hand to slide down until it rested on Matthew’s left buttock.  He didn’t know quite where this was going...  But at that moment a soft knock at the door broke the spell.  They jumped apart, flustered.
Philip glanced at Matthew’s bulging shorts.  “I’ll get it.”  He went to the door.  “Who is it?”
“It’s me
David.  I mean, Daphne.  Can I come in?”
“Just a sec.”
Matthew seated himself on the bed, where his predicament would be less obvious.  Philip opened the door.
“Come in.”
“Thanks.”  He took a pace forward and stopped dead.  He was still wearing the red dress and all the trimmings, though he looked a little more dishevelled than before; his makeup was smeared, his tights had a rip in them, and there were multiple sticky stains on the front of his dress.  He stared at Philip.  “Wow!  You look beautiful!”  And then, flustered, he added, “I mean
you know, they’ve done quite a good job, haven’t they.”  Still slightly embarrassed, he held out his hand.  “Pleased to meet you.”  Philip shook it.
“And you.  Oh, and this is my friend, Matthew
er, Matilda in here.  And I’m Philippa, of course.”
“Hello, Matthew.”
Matthew had no alternative but to stand up and join them.  David stared at the gleaming shorts.  Matthew’s arousal had hardly subsided.
“Oh, goodness
.er, I mean
that’s an
original outfit, Matthew
I, er
.”  He trailed off.
“Yeah, well, I’m supposed to be a tomboy, see?”
“Well, there’s no doubt he’s a boy, at least,” grinned Philip.  Matthew glared at him.   â€œSo David, tell us more.  What was that about “tart of the week”?  Sounds like something we should know about.”
So David told them all about it.  Of course it had been Miss Greystone’s idea, but it had been enthusiastically embraced by the whole staff.  From the beginning the institute had been a front for the staff’s prurient obsession with the students.  Miss Greystone and a couple of her friends had been the founders, but they had sought out like-minded women to help run the place.  The general belief amongst the students, reinforced by certain remarks overheard during punishment sessions, was that Miss Greystone had a mission.  It seemed that, in her youth, she had been betrayed and jilted not once, but two or three times, and now she was intent on sabotaging what she saw as the misogyny of any lecherous young men she could get her hands on - by the simple expedient of turning them gay! 
“You know, like the opposite of what those religious nuts do,” explained David.
And what better way than by confining them with their own sex, denying them the availability of any eligible female partners, and dressing them as girls!  As this explanation was unfolding, poor Matthew was becoming redder and redder in the face, thinking how, if the principal knew his feelings, he would probably be elected student of the month! 
The ”tart of the week” designation had been Miss Greystone’s latest idea in pursuance of her end.  The unlucky student would be offered this honour instead of a caning, as punishment for some minor breach of the rules.  Standing in front of Miss Greystone’s desk, looking at the stand full of vicious implements, it was difficult to choose the latter.  However, once elected to the position, the student would have reason to regret his choice.  He would be dressed appropriately, fitted with the badge of his office – a gold choker – and for the next week he was fair game for the whole institution.  He could be used in any way by one or more of his fellows with absolute impunity. 
“You can imagine what they get up to,” sobbed David.  “Or maybe you can’t.  Just now
”
But he didn’t get to finish what he was about to say.  There was a loud knock on the door, and a male voice called “Daphne?  You in there?  We’re waitin’.”
“Sorry, I’ve got to go.  Catch up tomorrow?”
“Sure
”
“Coming, Dominique!”
And with a whimper, he let himself out.  As he closed the door the boys heard a chorus of ironic cheers and raucous laughter from the corridor.  They looked at each other uneasily.  Matthew felt suddenly vulnerable.
“This isn’t good Philip.  It really isn’t.”
“Don’t worry Matty.  We’ll look out for each other.  No-one’s gonna mess with us.”
“Right.  No-one.  Apart from Miss Greystone
”

[Sandra B]

Chapter 142.  Patent leather Mary Janes.

Matthew was feeling rather deflated – in every sense – by David’s intelligence.  By indulging his romantic feelings towards Philip, he felt he was colluding with the regime.  He wanted to think things over.  He chose the bed on the left wall, behind the chests, and threw himself down.  Philip, respectful of his feelings, withdrew to the other end of the room.  He lay there thinking, distracted by his arousal, which came and went with the nature of his cogitations.  He must have been on the point of falling asleep when he heard a voice from the corridor, accompanied by a polite tap at the door.
“Hello?  Is there anyone in?”
“Come in,” called Philip, without bothering to get up from the table at which he was writing a letter to Rebecca.
Matthew had a restricted view.  The chests were Victorian, like much of the furniture in the Institution, and on short cabriole legs.  He saw the door open.  Two feet entered hesitantly, and stopped.  Matthew stared.  Shiny, patent leather Mary Janes, and short white socks with lace trim!  What the hell
? 
“Hello, Philippa
”
Matthew jumped out of bed.  Standing by the door, blinking and blushing, stood Billy!  Billy, his (as he saw him) arch-rival for Philip’s affections.  He knew something had happened between Philip and Billy, though he wasn’t absolutely sure what.  But he imagined the worst.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
"Sorry...I was supposed to arrive tomorrow, but they sent me today..."
Billy looked at him with astonishment.  There could hardly have been a greater contradiction of styles.  Matthew, the epitome of cool – sleazy cool, but cool nonetheless – and Billy.  Billy, dressed in a pure white long-sleeved blouse with a tie of blue ribbon, a short, blue tartan skirt, and the aforementioned footwear.  In addition, his hair shiny and arranged in two perfectly symmetrical bunches, each secured by more blue ribbon tied in neat bows.  And on his back, a little blue vinyl rucksack.  He wore pale peach lip gloss and peach blusher, and two little silver ear-studs with blue stones.
It was Philip’s turn to be embarrassed.  He turned bright red, and when eventually he spoke, he was unable to suppress a slight stammer.
“B-Billy
how nice to see you
I mean, are you
?”
“Yes.  I’m your roommate.  I hope that’s all right.”
“It’s not,” said Matthew, flatly.  “Not by me anyway.” 
Philip’s reaction had not been lost on him.  He glared at his friend, demanding support.  But Philip knew that if the arrangements had been made, there was no countermanding them.  He guessed, rightly, that there had been consultation between the misses Wellington and Greystone.  He imagined them cackling over the idea of assembling this impossible triangle and confining it in a single room.
“Billy’s okay, Matthew.  There’s nothing we can do, anyway.  We have to live with it.”
“You mean, I have to live with her
” 
For a moment, Matthew actually saw Billy as a girl.  A real girl, to whom the dominant heterosexual side of his friend would respond, and against whom he, Matthew, had no defence.  She
he
was as pretty as any girl, he thought.  Just as he had been the prettiest baby as Resborough, now he would be the cutest girl in Westonbrook.  He still had that pretty curled light brown hair, and his little retroussĂ© nose and freckles and hairless stalky legs were perfect for the part he was now playing.  He sighed, defeated.
“I’m really sorry, Matthew.  I didn’t want them to put me in here
but they insisted.”
“Don’t apologise.  I don’t believe you’re sorry at all.  What’s your girly name, anyway?”
“Bili.  B-I-L-I.”
“Well that’s easy.  Anyway, I expect you and Philippa over there have a lot to catch up on,” he said, sarcastically – and immediately regretted it.  “I’m going to bed.  Good night.”  And he returned to his place behind the chests.

The drawers and cupboards were still empty.  Apparently Annie hadn’t got her act together yet.  So there were no nightclothes, and Matthew stripped down to his panties, climbed into bed, and lay there listening to the low murmur of conversation between Philip and Billy.  He was feeling hugely frustrated.  He touched himself through the taut satin, thinking of Philip, and wishing they hadn’t been interrupted earlier.  Soon his panties were slick with his juices.  He turned to face the wall, pretending to be asleep, so the others wouldn’t notice the discreet movement of his hand.  Philip’s voice was low, but Billy’s much higher – even that was like a girl’s!  He pursued his fantasies, descending into slumber as he did so, until they took on a direction of their own.  At some point, his consciousness and his subconsciousness flowed back together.  He woke with a start, and with the realisation that, in his imagination, Philip had been replaced by Billy – or rather, by Bili.  They had been lying together on a hillside, in warm summer sunlight.  His hand was under Bili’s little tartan skirt, fondling his bulging panties.  Bili was lying back, eyes closed, moaning softly, and every now and then murmuring, “Matilda
yes
don’t stop
”  What was happening to him?  He lay there for some minutes in a state of agitation.  Then he shut his eyes tight, determined to sleep.  And after another half hour or so, he did
.

He was having a series of confusing dreams, but they finally resolved themselves into something pleasurable.  He was making love to his old flame, Karen
or rather, she was making love to him.  The pleasure increased, until he realised he was no longer asleep.  The feeling was unbelievable
ecstasy
  He reached own to touch himself, but he encountered
a head
soft hair, and ribbons!  He was fully awake in an instant.  It was dark – the middle of the night – but enough moonlight fell on the bed to enable him to see Billy’s head bobbing gently up and down.  Did he throw him off and jump out of bed?  He felt that’s what he should do...but the pleasure
! 
“Billy!” he whispered.  “What are you doing?”
Billy removed Matthew’s pen-is from his mouth with an audible plop.  “I’m really sorry they put me here, Matthew.  I don’t want to make any trouble for you and Philip.  I’m sort of
apologising, I suppose.  Do you want me to stop?”
Matthew didn’t reply for a moment.  Then, “please don’t.  Please don’t stop.  I’m the one who should be apologising to you.  And I'm going to...I'm going to.”  He ruffled Billy’s hair.  “Right after you’ve finished apologising to me.”

[BabyJay]

Thanks for continuing a great story. Hope you will add more chapters soon. Sounds like the three 'Girls' are going to finish up best of friends in more ways than one.

[Sandra B]

Thanks, BabyJay.  I'll resume as soon as I can.

[krystalasbaby2017]

It has taken me a few days to read the whole story so far.  I liked it when all the girls came into the story but disappointed his aunt and Tina are not really in the story any longer.
What is Becca going to do with Phillip not being a baby?  Also somehow they got to get Phillip down to just with Becca.  Think that can happen if Matt and Billy become an item, think this will be a relief to Phillip.
Now they are in basically sissy school looking forward to what they teach them for jobs for sissies in the real world.