You, as Blue, were walking in the park, the one you met the one that gave you a blow job, ultimately making another werewowan out of you. Blue hadn't reappeared in your dreams, but you didn't worry. That one dream was enough to help you accept your new normal. And while it would be cool to speak more with blue, having lucid-dreams too often couldn't be good for your health. Your brain needed to process the informations of the day, after all.
But right now you weren't Sam, the (relatively) everyday Joe, but Blue, a horny bombshell of a woman and, at the moment, you were worried. Not that you were any less sexy or horny than usual, but each time you were about to try and seduce a man into having a one-night stand with you, something felt wrong about it. As a result, you entered a night-club famous for its gay demographic, thinking that maybe you wanted pussy tonight, but you felt the same wrongness, it was almost like you had someone in mind, but couldn't figure who. Annoyed, you got back to the park and sat on the nearest unoccupied bench.
Some time passed before another woman sat on the opposite side of the bench and said the strangest discussion opener you ever heard. "You seem sad and sexually frustrated. Mainly sexually frustrated. I heard that, coming from a werewoman, it's a sign they're in love, but either don't know who they love, somehow, don't realize it, or are somewhat in the impossibility to be with their lover."
"God, I hope I'm not in love with Max!" you automatically swear, punting your hands on your face.
"You don't deny being a werewoman?"
"You seemed to know already, and be rather knowledgeable on the subject, which I desperately need. Don't think I'll blindly trust you or accept everything you say at face value, though. My other self made that error around someone he believed to be a friend, and I almost lost Sam as a result."
"Sam?"
"That's the name of my other self. I'm Blue by the way. Sam gave me the name, because of how much I love the color. He love it too, but not as obsessively as I do."
"Well, never met a werewoman who's female side don't want get rid of their male self before. Need a first for everything I suppose…"
Thinking she's a fellow werewonan, you ask "Are you saying you want to get rid of your male self?!?"
"Not if he hadn't wanted to get rid of me. But unlike you I don't change when the symbol of femininity that is the moon is full, but when it's absent from the night-sky. You see Blue, I used to be an ordinary woman, until one moonless night got ambushed by a group of men. They took my clothes so their leader could put his disgusting tongue into my pussy, moving it until I was dripping with juice he could then drink. Soon after I started changing and, since then, every new moon I become one of these men and help their leader turning more innocent women into one of them. And while most turn back into women the next day, some found a way to stay men forever, like the one that used to be my best friend Stacy." The woman started crying. "I… I don't want to turn into a serial rapist! I… I just want my life back!"
"I might have an idea," you said. And you had one, alas it required to contact someone you didn't want to. But it was still better than letting any woman be violated and turn into macho rapist. So you took your phone and called said person. "Blondie? It's Blue. Say do you still have the chair Max had used to restrain Sam? Awesome! In half a month, for the new moon, that chair and you have a blowjob to do."