Though her mortal limbs are gone, her astral touch is as strong as ever. You feel her reach out with a whisper of her powers, and slender chains rattle down from on high, wrapping themselves around her torso like tendrils, gently lifting her free of the golem cockpit. The golem sags, its clockwork insides ceasing.
The chains carry the professor towards a far smaller chassis that resembles a suit of plate armour molded to a feminine form, though with the upper chest cut away to allow her to be fitted easily inside. The chains slot her snugly into the armour and it hugs her closer, the arms and legs coming alive immediately. She flexes them as if they were her own, seemingly instantly at home inside her new body. The dexterous mechanical fingers buckle and tighten leather straps across her shoulders and breasts, securing herself inside.
You can't help stare at the curious fusion of machine and woman as she steps closer to the group, her robotic hips and legs moving with a distinct female sway. She looks far too young to be a professor, barely out of her teens, though appearance means little regarding wizards. She could be centuries old.
She moves to shake each new pupil's hand, her fingers cold and hard under yours. There is a strong, acrid, chemical smell about her. "Hi there! Welcome! I'm Vanyra Sweetstone, your guide for today. It's my job to show you around and see you safe to your dormitory, alive and with all limbs attached. The College Foundry is a dangerous place, especially for first year students, but so long as you follow my rules, you shouldn't be being sent back home to your mother in a matchbox. Understood?"
The group nods nervously.
"Good. Rule one! You do exactly as I say, when I say it. If I say duck, you duck. If I say run, you run. Rule two..." A wicked smile curls her purple-stained lips and she points at the students' robes. "The clothes, lose them." The students are silent, glancing at each other uncertainly, until she snaps, "Have you forgotten the first rule already? I say strip, that means you strip. Now! You think robes are going to protect you if you trip and fall in a furnace? You think they'll do a thing if a crucible falls on your head. Rule two - no clothing to be worn inside the foundry at all times. Clothing is flammable. Clothing can snag in gears and get you ground into a pulp. The only thing that'll keep you alive are wits and wizardry, so off off off."
This is some sort of hazing ritual surely, you reason. They can't seriously expect you to do the entirety of your studies ... naked. Can they? Yet many of the students are already slipping out of their robes. Some more reluctantly than others, especially the boys who had been oggling Vanyra's perky breasts only a minute before. The bronze-skinned boy at your side barely needs any persuasion, stripping out of his clothes so fast you're certain he must have teleported.
As the number of clothed students starts to become a minority, you become aware of Professor Sweetstone's piercing gaze on you. Finally relenting, you pull the heavy robes over your head. Soon your underclothes join them on a pile on the foundry floor. Your face burns bright red as you stand naked, cupping your genitals with your hands.
"Now no, no need to be so coy. You're going to be seeing each other like this for the next seven years, so you might as well get used to it." Sweetstone flicks her wrist, and the mounds of clothing fly on invisible winds into the mouth of a furnace, incinerated in an instant. She squirms with delight inside her metal shell at the outraged looks on their faces.
"Okay, the third and final rule..."
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