Syd & Brie Ch. 01

Not Quite Enemies 2.0

"And cut! That's it for this scene. Great job Syd and Brie, you were fantastic. You can head to your trailer, we'll call you when we're ready for the next shot."

Brie Larson flipped her flowing curly blonde hair over her shoulder. Her light brown eyes gazed at her co-star, Sydney Sweeny, and muttered, "Bitch".

Sydney gave Brie a smug smirk as she brushed back her newly cropped blonde hair and gave Brie a scowl. Her blue eyes twinkled with cocky smugness. "Up yours, Larson."

Everyone else on the set, from the director down to the grip, shook their heads as the two blondes bickered and insulted each other. The film, was a low budget affair which meant Brie and Sydney had to share a trailer. A fact that made their already thorny relationship all the more prickly.

As they stormed off, the director, Leila, turned to Thelma behind the camera and smiled. "For two women who hate each other, they have scorching sexual chemistry."

Thelma laughed. "Well you know what they say about the thin line between love and hate."

Leila nodded. "If that's true than those two must be soul mates." The two women burst out laughing at the absurdity of two of Hollywood's biggest stars being A.) gay and B.) gay for each other.

Back at the trailer Brie shoved Sydney out of the way and stood in the open doorway. She put her hands on her hips and snarled. "Would it kill you to memorize your lines?"

Sydney pushed Brie inside the trailer, pulling the door shut behind her. The moment the door was closed, and they heard the lock click, Brie fell into Sydney's arms. Their lips crashed as Sydney shoved Brie up against the wall, her hands eagerly exploring Brie's taut torso, making their way under her shirt to the holy land of her perfect tits.

Whimpers of desire escaped Brie's throat as Sydney's commanding hands fondled her body. They broke part for a quick breath, Brie's hands enjoying the firmness of Sydney's biceps. "It's not fair, how do you look even hotter with short hair," Brie whispered. Her eyes rolled back into her skull as Sydney shoved her thigh between her legs.

"You wanna talk about fair? How am I supposed to remember my lines when you're walking around in that bikini, practically begging me to bend you over the patio table ands fuck you like a bitch in heat in front of the crew."

"I love it when you talk dirty." Brie's voice was husky with need. She yelped as Sydney impatiently tugged her bikini top off and pulled her in for another pussy melting kiss. The two women fell onto their shared bed, a mass of questing hands and hungry lips. Sydney straddled Brie's torso and smiled down at her lover with a wicked grin.

"Fuck you're so hot, Brie."

"You have no idea how hard it is to-," Brie's words were cut off by Sydney's insatiable tongue. Her tiny hands raking through Brie's luxurious curls. Brie mewled into the kiss as she felt Sydney's hands drift toward her dripping pussy. "How much time do you think we have," she breathed as they broke for air.

"Enough for fingering sesh. Not enough for a strap-on, sadly." Sydney giggled at Brie's pout. "Don't worry, Princess when we get home, Mistress will make sure your ass gets a proper fucking with my 'Bitch-Tamer'." Brie squealed with excitement.

At that moment Sydney's fingers slid their way under Brie's surfer shorts and tugged at her bikini bottoms. Her light blue eyes twinkled with lust and mischief as she leaned down and plowed Brie's mouth with her tongue as her fingers dove into the welcoming velvety confines of Brie's dripping pussy. Sydney moaned at the velvet heat from Brie's core. Now this is the life.

Okay, at this point, I'm sure you have a few questions. Questions like, "What the hell movie are they making?" Or, possibly, "Wait, Brie Larson is the bottom?" But the biggest one is probably, "How the hell did this happen?"

I'll try and answer some of these questions but to do that we're going to have to go back a few months. It's not the beginning, but it's as close to it as we're going to get or else this becomes a Joyce Carol Oates novel. But first, you need to understand a few things.

The first is, that while Brie and Sydney were both famous Hollywood movie stars, neither one of them were happy. The reason for their unhappiness will take a lot of unpacking. But the short answer is because while both women had it all-it wasn't necessarily what they wanted.

Take Brie Larson for example. One of the biggest names on the planet whose career had taken a slight hit with her latest MCU film-bombing is a strong word-but the box office wasn't pleasant. If that wasn't bad enough she didn't like the roles being offered to her lately. She knew when she took Captain Marvel there was a danger of being typecast, as well as her outspoken activism burning more than a few bridges. But the roles she was being offered were neither interesting, challenging, or fun.

Brie didn't become an actor to play "safe" roles. She wanted to play messy human beings. What's more, as much as she loved playing Carol and was forever grateful for how the role helped her find her inner strength, she didn't love how it had hardened her body. It wasn't that Brie wanted to stop working out but she missed her soft curves.

Brie couldn't put into words what exactly was wrong. She just knew something was wrong. It was like there was a jigsaw puzzle with some crucial pieces missing but she didn't know where the pieces were.

Oh, and Brie was gay. Suuuuuper gay. Like so gay it was kind of sad how obvious it was to everyone with a functional gaydar but not to Brie. The blonde megastar was a terrific closet-case. It somehow never occurred to her that the average straight woman didn't go see Anyone But You a dozen times. (Okay more like fifteen. Brie may have been delusional but she wasn't so far gone that she didn't see how weird it was to buy out the whole theater so she could have some guaranteed privacy while she watched Sydney jiggle across the screen. Though if cornered she would swear up and down she was fingering herself to Glenn Powell. Sure. Brie. Sure.)

Brie Larson had a type and it was Sydney Sweeney. But heaven forbid our girl choose the healthy route and admit this. No, instead she did the only rational thing and claim that her obsession with Sydney was because she hated her. She even went so far as to publicly call her, "A walking set of tits with a SAG card," at one of those post-award show cocktail parties.

To be fair, she had more than a few drinks and Sydney Sweeney was looking so breathtakingly gorgeous in person she had to do something or else she's be forced to flirt with the diminutive blonde. So like the closeted Sapphic she was, she lashed out.

Like Brie, Sydney was finding her life at the top shockingly constricting. Due to the nature of the new Hollywood, Sydney was forced to maintain a lively social media presence, after all your follower count played a huge part in getting roles nowadays. Sydney, being a clever girl realized the best way to maintain a high follower count was the age-old strategy of posting thirst-traps. It worked like a charm.

Except now she was in serious danger of being seen solely as a sex object. Try as she might she struggled to get people to see beyond her pin-up veneer and see the smoldering intellectual underneath. Worse, was how she had grown to feel like her sexy pin-up image had become a trap. Sydney was a giry-girl sure but more and more she felt uncomfortable in dresses. She didn't hate how they made her look but she did hate how they made her feel.

However, unlike Brie she wasn't drowning in self delusion. She was gay and knew it. But like Brie she chose to try and hide it. Sydney came from a conservative family and so while she knew she was gay, she never felt comfortable being open-or admitting it out loud.

I'm sure it will come as no shock to you clever reader, that Sydney's type was Brie Larson. Actually her type was bimbos. God, help Sydney she loved a massive pair of knockers. She had terabytes of pictures and videos of models like Denise Milani to Danielle Derek. Few things made Sydney hotter and wetter than the thought of a massive set of of tits bouncing in her face.

Brie Larson had quickly wormed her way into Sydney's lust bank one fateful night when she hosted the Jimmy Kimmel Show. Sydney had been watching the show at home with her then boyfriend, when Brie came out wearing a dress that left Sydney squeezing her thighs, her bright blue eyes dark with feral lust.

Her poor boyfriend wondered what he had done to deserve such an epic session of wild sex that night; never realizing that the whole time they were fucking like wild animals-Sydney Sweeny was picturing ramming a strap-on into a mewling and eager Brie Larson.

Seeing Brie in that dress, unlocked something in Sydney and from then on she was an avid Brie Larson fan. Not just as an object of desire, she honestly respected Brie. The way she spoke out for what she believed, speaking out on equality, not just in gender, but for race and sexuality.

To say nothing of how Sydney felt like she was going insane because she felt like she was the only one who understood what a massive talent Brie was. Many of Sydney friends were made to suffer through tirade after tirade of Sydney complaining about how Hollywood was letting one of its best actors slip through its fingers.

But all that changed when she overheard Brie drunkenly call her, "A set of tits with a SAG card." Sydney was devastated to hear someone she had admired and respected dismiss her like that, much less someone she secretly pined for. So, Sydney took that hurt and did the only thing that made sense, she got drunk and bitched about what a bitch Brie Larson was; loudly and within earshot of Brie.

Now, into all of this walks two heroes. They are not heroes in the typical sense and their not really the main characters. But they are heroes because they looked at Brie and Sydney and had to laugh at how desperately bad these two had it for each other. Meet the unlikely couple Myra and Candy.

Before you ask, yes, Candy was her real name. At least as far as she was concerned. Some would describe Candy as something out of a male fantasy; all heels, makeup, and silicone. But in reality Candy was Candy's fantasy-and Myra's.

Myra, was a hefty woman, in her forties, with short gray hair and a penchant for brightly colored double breasted suits. Myra and Candy were an odd couple, a new school bimbo and an old school butch. But they worked; sexually, romantically, and professionally-Myra was an agent and Candy was her secretary.

Everyone looked at Candy and saw nothing but her plastic surgeries. But had they gone through the trouble of talking to her they would have discovered a keen observer of people who also happened to be able to type one hundred and forty words a minute-and with THOSE nails-believe me that's a talent.

In other words, Candy was more than a pretty face and a spectacular set of tits. She was also a walking rolodex of names, numbers, and emails. Something that came in handy for Myra who was an agent who specialized in seeing what Hollywood didn't. Like Candy, Myra was a shrewd observer of people, and could see how desperately unhappy Brie and Sydney were and taking it out on themselves and each other.

Myra and Candy happened to be, by chance, at the infamous cocktail party. They sat there and watched how Brie and Sydney spent the whole night making sure they were in each other's eyeline-and making sure the other noticed them.

Myra chortled. "No one said anything about a free show."

Candy smirked as she ran her slender finger around the edges of her wine glass. "Do you think they see it?"

Myra's arm was draped over Candy's shoulder, her finger tracing the smooth tanned skin of her bare shoulders. "Not a chance in hell. Did you see that bit in Variety about the MCU slate?"

Candy nodded before taking a sip of her wine. "Yep."

"Not a single mention of the woman who made them over a billion dollars."

"Nope. Did you see that story in US weekly?"

"No."

"Notice anything interesting about the sexpot's fingers?"

Myra looked over at Sydney and laughed. "Looks like our girl broke off that engagement."

"Rumor has it that her ex didn't approve of her career."

Myra scoffed. "He's not the only one. You can tell she doesn't like it either." The big woman sat there, her mind whirring with thought and compassion. "You know, I think those two need new representation."

Candy drained her wine glass and giggled. "What they need is two weeks in Cabo with each other and bottomless mai tais."

Myra cackled. "Yeah, but I think signing them on as clients will be easier then dragging them out of the closet."

"True," Candy gasped as Myra's hand moved from caressing her shoulder to groping her left breast through her stained crop top. "Oooh, finally the fun part of the evening."

There you have it. I know that seems like a lot to take in but the only thing you really need to know-to understand-is that Brie and Sydney are deeply unhappy with their lives and are both massively gay. That's what you need to remember or else, nothing that follows, will seem as goofy, fun, and sexy.