I had a sudden brainstorm, and made a wish not about Trish, but about the lotion she was using.
As she continued to rub her breasts, I watched her expression go from annoyed to relieved and then to confused. She pulled her hands away from her breasts, and I saw her look down at them in disbelief. What she and I both saw was that she was growing bigger before our eyes, slowly but noticeably.
"Oh, my God," she said in a squeaky whisper. She put her hands back to her flesh, and then noticed something else -- her fingernails, formerly short, had extended a bit past her fingertips, maybe an eighth of an inch.
Then she happened to look down at the lotion bottle on the bathroom counter next to her, looking different than what she thought she had grabbed. She picked it up and read the logo on the front of the bottle. "Magic Beautifying Lotion?" she said out loud, and then turned it around and silently read the small print on the back.
I had a pretty good idea of what the small print said: I'd wished that her lotion would magically improve her looks, with the most intense effects in the places where she rubbed it in, but with minor effects all over her body -- and I'd wished that it would have a certain amount of reality-altering effects (only she and I would notice any differences), with an accompanying overuse warning on the label.
Trish looked up from the label to see her breasts in the mirror. They'd stopped growing, but they were now approximately the size of honeydew melons. The areolae were nearly perfectly round, the nipples little pink domes that were currently erect. With a bit of trepidation, she picked her new red bra off the counter, looked at the tag, and did a double-take.
She put the bra on, maneuvering her large globes into the lacy cups. It fit perfectly.
She picked up the lotion again and looked down at the bottle in her hand. I could practically see the wheels turning in her brain.