You find yourself wondering if Gene is still her name, or if it is now Jean, or if it has changed entirely. Perhaps your distraction with her name - and her whole transformation in general - is why you make the mistake of trying to misdirect her attention.
"Oh, the light is broken," you say in answer to her request to try it on you. A puzzled look crosses her face.
"What are you talking about?" she says. "You were just using it." Before you can react, she snatches the light out of your hand and examines it.
"Hey, give that back," you protest, feeling a cold sweat break out. She ignores your protest.
"Well there's your problem, silly," she says. "You just had the brightness too low." She adjust something on the flashlight, then flicks it on and points it at you.
"Cut it out!" you squeal, trying to block the light with your left hand. Your manicured nails click together, but some of the light still gets through. Fortunately, Jean quickly flicks the light off, so it looks like you got lucky.
"What the hell?" Jean says. "Your hand just...and are you wearing makeup...?" You roll your eyes at your friend.
"Well, duh," you say. "I may be pretty, but you know I never go out bare. Now, give that back." You hold out your right hand for the flashlight, and a disconnected part of you wonders why you didn't get a manicure for both hands. Shrugging off the weird thought, you wiggle your fingers and Jean sighs.
"Fine," she says reluctantly, and starts to hand the flashlight over. Suddenly, though, she flicks it on and seems to sweep it across your body.
"Jean!" you snap, but she dances out of reach as she turns it off. "You don't know what that can do!" You quickly look down at yourself, expecting to see that your boobs have ballooned out into massive monstrosities. To your relief, they're the same modest B-cups that you've had since your figure developed in Freshman year.
"Oh, I think I do," Jean says, staring at the flashlight in awe.