Planet Telex

"Under the Assigned Labour Act of 2355, you have been chosen for an Assignment."
The avian groggily lifted her head to look at the screen in front of her. Her head ached, and her body was sore -- the installation of her new mental interface chip had just finished, and the metal holding her in place kept her tight against the operating table.
"Hold still." Said the voice, which she could now make out as synthesised. "Enabling mental interface."
Her vision went white and faded back into the black of the processing facility's darkness, skin prickling as if ever feather was a knife. She whimpered quietly, too drugged and disoriented to produce anything more, before the feeling subsided. The colours that made up her visual reality flickered and shifted slightly, words slowly popping from the darkness. She couldn't read them clearly, each letter a squarish, digital rendition of the complex lines that usually made up Accordian script, but she knew what they said.
"Stand." The words said. "Face the screen."
The avian felt the metal bands tightly holding her down retract into the operating table, allowing her to slowly swing her legs off and shakily stand. Even though the haze was lifting, she had no reason not to do what it said, head lifting and eyes struggling to stay open to gaze at the bright screen in front of her. It just had the Accord insignia, but something in her mind told her to look anyway.
"You have been assigned as a Personal Assistant. Do you understand the duties of a Personal Assistant?" The synthesised voice said again, to which the avian shook her head. "Personal Assistants are assigned to a single member of staff of a Planet or Empire Ministry. Each Assistant transferred to the personal ownership of the staff. Assistants are responsible for the personal upkeep and pleasure of their new owner."
The avian's brow furrowed as she thought, as hard as it was. A personal assistant? But that meant... "Nhhh... no..."
"Under the Assigned Labour Act of 2355, all Assignments are non-negotiable."
"N-no, I don't... don't want to be an Assistant..."
As soon as she said the words, she felt as if her mind was on fire. She fell to her knees, clutching her skull, not even able to make a noise.
"Resistance towards fulfilling your Assignment will be corrected." The voice said, as the pain suddenly went away. "Stand."
Panting and slumped over on her knees, it took a minute for her to be able to stand again. As she pulled herself up from the ground, she noticed she was naked, and was not very surprised about it. Everybody knew that Assistants didn't get the same clothes as the free citizens. At least, that was the thought that she had -- even though she couldn't remember where she'd heard it. But it was true.
"Your Assignment is to First Officer Feathers of Scarlet. She has requested your new identifier be STARLING."
"But... but my name... my name is..." Starling searched her mind for her name. She was still kind of fuzzy, but she knew she had one. Everyone had a name. Everyone... everyone except Assistants. Only Assistants didn't have names, only identifiers. That was coming clear to her, somehow...
"Look forward."
Starling's train of thought was broken by the voice, and she lifted her head to look back at the screen. Across it was her identifier at the top, and on the bottom half was a picture of her new owner. Before she could so much as look closer at the picture, she opened her mouth to moan, endorphins being dumped into her mind at just the sight of them. "Aaah, what's... what's... mmmhhh..." She resisted the urge to collapse back onto her knees, keeping her eyes on the picture. Feathers of Scarlet was beautiful, with deep hazel eyes and a dark red plumage, and the picture being of her in her First Officers uniform, perfectly tailored.
"Please proceed to Delivery."
Starling's gaze only broke as the screen switched back to the Accord insignia, turning towards the now open exit. She somehow knew the way, too fuzzy from the remainder of the drugging and the very thought of Feathers of Scarlet. She walked, as her thoughts said she should, resisting the urge to run there quicker. She was to be delivered at a fixed time, she knew that, so she'd just have to wait in her delivery pod anyway.

She didn't want to, but she had to. She didn't want to, but she had to.
That thought looped over and over in her mind, the endorphins wearing off not long after she was placed into her delivery pod. The rounded oval pod had closed around her some hours ago, the inside being made of a shifting foam that fit her body perfectly, leaving her no room to move. The pod was perfectly hermetically sealed and pressurised, with its own life support systems built in -- these pods could be shipped halfway across the known galaxy without needing to maintain the enslaved subject inside. Her trip was much shorter, however, only a few thousand kilometers to the megacity a sector over. The Assistant processing facilities she'd been sent from nearly took up the size of a city itself, with massive transport infrastructure and hundreds of thousands of cells and training rooms, so the delivery was not ever going to be a quick one.
"Mrrff..." She tried again to shift in the pod after what seemed like an eternity since she last tried. The foam did not yield, and she just felt solid walls around her constrict to keep her in place. She did have plenty of time to think, however. Think about what had happened, how she was now enslaved, and how this could have possibly happened to her. She knew that new Assistants were picked randomly from the working-echelon, but she'd never thought it would happen to her! And what they'd done to her before putting her in this pod -- dressing her in a tight one-piece dress, the slightly stretchy, dark fabric clinging to her body and resisting little against any possible movement. It was minimalist in a way Accord dress usually wasn't -- but this was an Assistant outfit, not one of a free avian. And if -- if! -- she ever walked the streets again, it would be obvious to all what she was. Above her left breast was the insignia of the Accord in bright white, her insignia and a barcoded unique ID beside it. Even if she found -- or was allowed -- a bright scarf to attempt to disguise it, the extra barcode along the side of her bodytight dress was impossible to conceal. If she got caught trying to hide her status, as well... she'd find herself with it branded on her.
"Mrgh!" It was all so unfair to her. Starling tried to kick in the entrapping cocoon, getting nothing but a little muscle strain in her legs.
...
Don't try and escape. Don't struggle. Just... stay there, and wait for arrival. She knew she'd be happier with her new owner.
...
Were those her thoughts? She thought they were. But she couldn't tell. She relaxed, as her mind said she should, and just listened to the hiss of the oxygen mask as she breathed in and out. Not long until she saw her owner now.

Starling felt a bump on the outside of her capsule, and a strange feeling of stillness. The past hours of transport had made her used to the feeling of unknown, smooth motion, and it felt odd now being at rest. She didn't have much time to relax, however, before light flooded her eyes. The capsule's front was opening, slowly, the foam constricting her shifting away to allow her freedom.
"Ah. About time. Out."
Starling blinked into the light, blinded by it. She didn't know who it was speaking to her, but her voice sounded... familiar. Good. Like she should do what it says. Still unable to see, she stepped forward onto nothing, ungracefully falling out of the pod onto the tiled floor.
"On your feet, Assistant." The voice said. Feminine. Demanding.
Starling scrambled onto her feet, covering her eyes with a hand and letting them adjust to the light she'd been without for what felt like forever. Her talons scratched at the tiled floor as she tried to keep her balance.
"Head up. Look at me."
Starling lowered her hand slowly, to see the figure in the daylight before her.
"Who... who are... nnnghhhhh..." Starling's eyes caught a glance of Feathers of Scarlet, her new owner. The rush of endorphins came back, stronger than before, making her knees weak and mind swim. "Oh, oh goddess..."
Scarlet smirked, stepping forward in her daily uniform. Bright, and commanding of attention, it stood in stark contrast to the dark, smooth Assistant uniform of Starling. Her Ministry insignia pin shone beside her own metal nametag, reading "F. SCARLET" -- removing any doubt in Starling's mind that it really was her. "I'm honoured. But, you can call me Mistress."
"Yes, yes... yes Mistress..." Starling replied, barely able to keep on her two legs. The thought that she should run, that she should escape, that she should be free... it was all but crushed by the endorphin rush as she felt Scarlet's hand brush her cheek. "Aaahhh..."
"What is your name, my new Personal Assistant?" Scarlet asked, pulling her hand back, but moving up closer to Starling's body.
"It's... it's..." Starling thought, as hard as she was able, trying to remember. She had a name! She always had a name. She's got friends that call her it, and she signed it nearly every day... She had to have a name!
"Oh, I'm sorry, you don't have one of those anymore. I should ask... what's your identifier?"
"Starling." She blurted out, barely thinking. That's right, she had no name. Only an identifier.
"Much better. Exactly as I picked. And I see my other requests got through, as well. Aren't you a small, weak cutie?" Scarlet stepped forward, instincts in Starling's mind making them step back to compensate.
"Ah-ahh... what... what're you going to do to me? ...M-Mistress?" Starling stuttered, thoughts hardly fitting in any linear order as long as she looked at her owner. But, she couldn't look away.
"Anything." Scarlet stepped forward, trapping Starling between her and the now closed storage pod. "I." Scarlet moved closer, pressing her body up against Starling's, the Assistant trembling in pleasure and instinctual fear. "Want."