You sigh. "All right, leprechaun, you can have your gold back," you say.
"Very good," she says. She makes another gesture, and the cauldron disappears from the floor next to you. "Now, what be your wish?"
You think for a minute, then ask, "Let me understand this changing reality business first. So right now, it's as if I've always been female. If I called my mother right now -- "
"-- she would know ye as her daughter," finishes the leprechaun. "The magic tries to keep most things the same, but maybe a few things are a wee bit different, like there's a history of red hair in your family's genetics, or maybe ye dated one or two of the guys ye were friends with as a man."
You shudder thinking about that, but then you go back to thinking about your wish, and about the kind of male body you've always wanted -- and, come to think of it, maybe you can make up for losing that gold. "Okay, I have my wish," you announce. "I wish I had the body, and the net worth, that I've fantasized about in the past couple of years." You're proud of yourself for adding that "past couple of years"; you'd prefer not to turn into anything you might have imagined when you were a kid.
"Ah, pretty smart with the 'net worth' thing," says the leprechaun. "But let me take a second to clarify the 'body' part of the wish. I can see your fantasies about your body going back for two years, no problem. But sometimes ye were fantasizing about the entire 'look' of your body, and sometimes ye fantasized about additions to your body that are possible with my magic, sure, but -- what exactly did ye have in mind?"
You blink. "All of it, I guess. Give me the best possible overall body, I guess a composite of my fantasies, and also whatever else you can do. I mean, keep me human, of course --"
The leprechaun interrupts. "Ye mean ye want to be as attractive as possible to the opposite sex?"
You chuckle. "Yeah, that's what I meant. Make me look like my fantasies."
"Okay," says the leprechaun. She makes an elaborate gesture, and for a second you're surrounded by rainbow-colored sparkles, which quickly dissipate.
The first sign that something's happening is that your freckles enlarge and grow together until they give your skin a nice, even tan.
"I did say to think about your wish very carefully," says the leprechaun.
Strangely, your already-slender waist contracts a bit, your stomach flattens, and your navel changes shape a bit.
"Huh? What do you mean?" you ask. Your voice seems to have gone a little bit lower, but it's still recognizably female.
"I told you, I changed reality so that ye have always been female," points out the leprechaun, and then she asks, "As a female, what kind of fantasies would ye have had about your body over the past two years?"
And as you see your small breasts expanding, you realize you know the answer to that question. "Stop changing me!" you practically shout.
"Sorry, I cannot," she says. "I just put in motion what ye wished for."
Your breasts stop at approximately volleyball size, with perfectly round areolae about the size of silver dollars, and don't sag anywhere near as much as they should. You bring your hands up to touch them and notice that your fingernails are lengthening before your eyes.
The leprechaun says, "Over the past two years, as ye have seen other women on TV, or in magazines, or even on the street, ye have wished to look like them, or have wished for a part of their body, or have even come up with ideas on your own. Ye now have magical fingernails that will always look like ye have just had a manicure."
You look in the mirror to see that your hair is changing from a natural orangish-red to a brilliant fire engine red color; it's also lengthening down your back and gaining a bit of a wave. Your triangle of pubic hair darkens to match the shade of red, but then disappears, looking as if it gets sucked into your skin. Meanwhile, the hair on your head has stopped growing, a little bit past your ass.
"See, it's not all bad," says the leprechaun. "Do ye know how many women would kill to have hair on their head that always looks like it's just been professionally done, and then to magically have no body hair forever?"
You gingerly touch the area where your pubic hair was, and feel only smooth skin. A long nail brushes your clitoris, and your knees almost buckle from the sensation, and from the fact that you seem to be getting taller -- no, you're going up on tiptoe, as a pair of black platform sandals with ridiculously high heels appears on your feet, which you have to peer around your breasts to see.
"Like most women, ye wished once or twice to be always comfortable wearing high heels," explains the leprechaun. "That's possible with magic, but it means ye can hardly stand up when ye aren't wearing them, and forget about walking."
"But I'll look like a porn star," you complain, and then you look up to see your face in the mirror, and notice that you really do look like a porn star. Your face has been changed a bit -- the lips plumper, the cheekbones higher, the eyelashes longer, the nose smaller -- and it's been painted garishly, with several colors of dark eyeshadow, black eyeliner and mascara, reddened cheeks, and a thick coat of lip gloss.
"That's another thing women wish for," says the leprechaun. "Permanent makeup, and since ye wished to look good for the opposite sex, ye will always have your face done up like that. Even your lips will always stay glossy no matter what."
It doesn't look like anything else is changing. You dare to ask the leprechaun, "Is that it?"