Reluctantly, and with conditions

Still bleary from your insufficiently-long sleep, your first reaction is something between a glare and a squint.

"Today...? Really?"

"Why not? It's Sunday!"

She rests her hands on her thighs and bounces up and down in an obvious effort to entice you further, her ruby lips forming an exaggerated pout.

"Please?" she whines, "If we don't get it today I'll have nothing to do when you're away at school."

With a sigh of resignation you rise from your pillow, knowing that this small favour would do wonders for her sense of loyalty.

"Fine. But you're coming with me to pick it out."

"What!? Why?" she exclaims, adopting a more conservative posture at the mere possibility of public exposure. "Couldn't you just pick it up for me? Or order one online, same-day delivery?"

"Yup, I could do both those things." you agree with a nod. "...But then I wouldn't be able to show you off."

Harley huffs in frustration, no longer surprised by your callous disregard for her physical privacy.

"How did I know..." she sighs, wincing at the slightly-used roll of boob tape sitting nearby. Despite her initial hesitation she's quick to wiggle out of bed and grab it before handing off the roll to you.

"Hey - you signed up for this, remember?" you chide, pausing to tear a finger-length strip from the roll. "Like it or not, stuff like this is what will get us that A. You've gotta ditch the hangups."

Harley's only reaction to this is to sulk, arms crossed, as you prepare her wardrobe for the day. The girl quivers when you move in to apply the tape, betraying the **** sensitivity of her pertly massive melons yet again.

"I'll see if Callum wants to come along." you declare, giving Harley's boobs an experimental squeeze after you've smoothed out the last strip against her flesh. Accustomed to your constant lechery by now, the clown-girl lets it pass without comment.

"The guy from the bus?"

"Yeah."

Harley doesn't look pleased with this development, but she keeps her mouth shut as you go through the process of grabbing your phone and messaging your would-be companion (who replies, almost instantaneously, in the affirmative).

"He's good to go."

"...Okay..."

Something is off, so you rise from the bed and stand before her, lifting both hands to rub at her shoulders in an unusual display of tenderness.

"Hey." you begin. The softness of that single word alone entices her to lift her eyes from the floor.

"If anyone stares, don't worry about it. You're fucking beautiful."

Harley blushes a deep shade of red at that. She smiles coyly, burying her face in your chest in an effort to hide the full extent of her reaction, but you're not about to let her off so easily; you guide your Love Doll's chin ceilingward, press your lips to hers, and marvel as the girl practically melts in your arms.

After that, leading her out to the bus stop proves to be an easy matter.