Toughset belongs to  Toughset
Xarua (http://www.furaffinity.net/view/9305196/) (on the right) belongs to me.

---Somewhere in the Arizona countryside---

Xarua wiped a bead of sweat off her forehead as she unstrapped herself from the escape pod, grateful to have survived the landing. The Equinean's ship had flown apart in orbit, and although she didn't know much about the planet she was on, only that the inhabitants weren't yet capable of interstellar travel. How she was gonna get home was anyone's guess.

She gathered her gear and rations and started hiking northeast, certain that she had seen civilization in that direction during her descent. About three miles into the trek, she noticed her boots were stuck in the deep, soft sand. And she wasn't just stuck, she was slowly sinking.

“Quicksand,” Xarua grumbled. “As if the 180 mile-an-hour plummet to the ground wasn't enough of a struggle for my life.” Already knee-deep in the desert sand, she chucked her pack onto the edge of the pit and scanned her surroundings for something to grab on to, shuddering as the shifting sand began sucking at her bare thighs.

As the quivering quicksand rose around her hips, she started recalling her survivalist training at the Equinean Spacefaring Academy, especially the lesson about surviving quicksand encounters on planets with less-than-stable terrain. The hips were the center of mass for the female body. The deeper the hips sank under the surface, the harder it was to escape. Knowing this, Xarua dug her hands into the edge of the pit and hung on for dear life as the quicksand claimed her waist and started sucking hungrily at her torso.

As her massive breasts settled into the sand, Xarua realized there was just no way she was getting out on her own. The idea of being rescued unsettled the Equinean girl, but for no other reason than that her people exercised life-debts (that is to say, if your life is saved, it is to be spent in servitude of whoever saved it). Xarua did not like the idea, but now she had no choice but to embrace it with open arms. As her bust disappeared beneath the surface and warm, dry sand filled her armpits, her hands were yanked loose from their anchorhold. There was nothing to stop her from sinking to her doom now! She took a deep breath, and cried out with every fiber of her being:

“HELP MEEEEE!”


Meanwhile...

Not far away, Toughset the Armadillo, founder of the PRR, had just shrugged off his fifty-pound pack and was about to set up camp for the afternoon, having decided the Arizona countryside would be an ideal spot for a short leave of absence, as all the other PRR Academy students were taking theirs, too.

“HELP MEEEEE!” came a feminine voice off in the distance.

The distant but clearly audible cry commanded the armadillo's immediate attention. Ignoring the aches and pains of having just toted fifty pounds worth of gear through the desert all morning, he half-jogged, hakf-sprinted towards the sound of the distress call, leaving all his gear behind. He didn't care; it could all be replaced. This person's life, however, could not be.

After about five minutes or so he came across that all-too familiar sight of desert quicksand, in the middle of which all that remained above the surface was a pair of slender, groping arms, and a pair of... green antennae? Surely no such creature existed on Earth, did it? Toughset wasn't even sure he saw that correctly, but it was too late to double-check, as they had already disappeared. Toughset fumbled around in his pack and came up with a rope just as the figure sank in up to her wrists, throwing the rope to her just as her hands went under. With enough force, he was finally able to extract this stranger from the quicksand.

The figure, clearly extraterrestrial and clearly female, was the most gorgeous sight Toughset had ever seen! Tall and busty, with perfect hips and thick thighs sporting equine hooves (she had lost her boots in the quicksand), mostly horse-like in appearance. What stood out the most, though, was her pale green skin, lizard-like tail, and two antennae protruding from her forehead. And her clothing flattered her, as well (flightsuit consisting of tight purple spandex shorts with matching low-cut top, with sleeves reaching the wrists, puctuated by a purple choker). Toughset coudn't stop staring at the gorgeous alien girl as she brushed sand off her thighs and her flightsuit.

Finally he worked up the nerve to say something. “Um, are you all right?”

“Yes,” the alien panted, smiling at him. “I'm Xarua.”


Later that evening...

Armadillo and Equinean sat around a campfire under the starlight as Toughset got dinner ready.

Xarua cleared her throat. “So, I wanted to thank you for saving me from that dreadful quicksand earlier today.

Toughset smiled through his blushing cheeks as he served up ramen noodles into two separate bowls and passed one to Xarua. “Oh, it's nothing, really. It's sort of what I do.”

“Nothing?!” Xarua was beginning to like this guy. Might as well break the good news to him. “Not to me it isn't, and certainly not to my people!”

“I beg your pardon?” Toughset could tell by the tone of the alien's voice that he had either delighted her or given her an unforgiveable insult. Talking to aliens is always tricky, since they speak entirely different languages. What means “Let's be friends,” in our language could mean “Go screw yourself!” in theirs.

Likewise, Xarua chose her words carefully, knowing that they would probably be her last as a free woman. “According to the religion of my people, if your life is saved in any way, shape, or form, you are to spend the remainder of your days in servitude to your rescuer. We call it a life-debt. As demanded by the gods, I am now your humble servant.”

Toughset nearly choked on his ramen. “What?! I'm sorry, but that won't be necessary. I don't ask anything in return for what I do.”

Xarua's face lit up as she hugged the armadillo around the shoulders. “Oh, thank you, Toughset! I won't forget this!”

“Why? What do the rules say about that?!”
Xarua regained her composure. “Turning down a life-debt is a rare occurrence, but if it happens, both parties continue their lives as if nothing had happened.”

Toughset smiled. “And as far as I'm concerned, nothing has.”

Xarua sighed. “Saving one's life and then turning down their owed life-debt is one of the holiest things one can do. My people would consider you a saint! But sometimes rescuers abuse their newfound power and turn their debtors into slaves. That happened to me once, and it's considered a blasphemy. If it is discovered to have taken place, the life-debt is null and void and the debtor is free.”

“I see,” Toughset said. “It's getting late. Do you have a place to stay?”

“Only what remains of my escape pod.”

“That won't do. You can spend the night here and we'll head out for town in the morning. I thought I'd be alone today, so I only packed for one, sorry.”

“That's okay, I have an idea,” Xarua said blushing a little. Having unrolled Toughset's sleeping bag, she unzipped it and spread it out on the sand. Then she grabbed a warm blanket from her pack and set it over the bag to make a double bed. Reluctantly at first, Toughset joined her in it, falling asleep in the embrace of her velvety soft skin.