Try to "find" her some "clothes"

It takes every fiber of your willpower to resist glancing down at her unbelievable body. As the definition of a teenage dirtbag you had never expected to find yourself so close to a hot, nude girl so early in life. You find yourself having to consciously recall the fact that she's artificial; it sure doesn't show.

"Alright. Well, I did think of the clothes situation a bit..." you start, turning to the night table beside your bed and rifling through its drawer before retrieving two rolls of shiny, opaque masking tape; one in black, and one in red.

She winces, clearly unimpressed.

"...You can't be serious."

"It's fine, it's fine! It's a thing. Good for covering your nipples." you pitch.

Her **** is palpable, but she eventually takes the rolls of tape from your waiting hand.

"You know, I'm trying really hard to trust you," she says, turning to obscure her front as she unspools the first roll, "...But the fact that *this* is what you got in case I needed clothes..."

She pauses to bite off an inch-long strip of tape, leaving the sentence unfinished. You look on in appreciative silence as she calmy applies the tape to her tits, her ample sideboob jiggling enough to compete with the visual allure of her bare ass. When she finally turns around, her nipples and areolas have been concealed - if only barely - by two x-shaped patches of red-and-black tape.

"There. Everything you imagined?" she snarks, jaw quivering a little as she gestures to her newly-taped mounds. "So, w-what do you have in mind to cover up the rest of me? A piece of string?"

Holy shit.

Now that the tape was on, the Love Doll had finally ceased to bother covering up her tremendous rack. Those soft, mostly-bare milkers wobbled with her every movement, however slight. This time your eyes fail to resist their magnetic pull, prompting your squirming model to avert her eyes from yours.

She clears her throat pointedly.

"...So, just to review, I was hoping for some kind of bottom, too...?" she sighs, nudging your attention back to the topic at hand.

"Oh, right."

You return to the night table and produce yet another treasure from the depths of its only drawer: a red, headband-like object with a flat, triangular portion at one end. This flap is adorned with the image of three small, black diamonds, and the garment as a whole has a velvety texture.

"This is a c-string," you explain, holding it up before her weary eyes. "It's like a g-string, but no waistband. A little rigid, so it sits flush with your junk and stays put."

Apparently past the point of argument, she takes the c-string from your hand with a resigned expression on her face. With one hand over her crotch she backs into the bathroom and shuts the door, shooting you a dissatisfied glare as she does so.

Your Love Doll emerges a few minutes later with her c-string in place. You can tell at a glance that being provided with clothes has softened her a little; as guarded and awkward as her posture may be, she now wears a barely perceptible smile of relief on her face.

"...Well, you did what you said you'd do, I guess. In a way." she admits, this time ignoring your leering. "So, if you promise not to touch... "

"...Then you won't spend all night in the bathroom again?"

She nods. You can tell that she cleaned herself up a little, having wiped away the runny facepaint and mascara that adorned her cheeks. Idly, you wonder if she noticed the makeup being refreshed from within her very pores only a moment later - the "permacosmetics" customization did just that, ensuring that your Love Doll would always look as made-up and picture-perfect as she did on delivery day.

"Deal." you reply, taking in the sight of her with obvious enthusiasm. "Still want to have that talk?"

Her fragile smile widens into a grin:

"Okay."