Thanks to Anons for pointing out errors and misquotes.

>You sweat nervously as your little mare friend stubbornly stands in front of your front door.
"Night Watch? Open the front door, please."
>The dark-blue furred robot shakes her head 'no', her expression solemn.
>"I'm sorry, Anon," she replies, her artificial voice warbling only slightly, "I'm afraid I can't do that."
>Oh, god, you're getting old movie flashbacks.
"C'mon, Nighty, I need to get to work."
>You hear the whine of servos whirring as she swivels her head left to right again.
>She peers up at you with her artificial eyes; screens that display cartoon eyes, the colour of which she has selected to be a pleasant forest green.
>They flicker slightly, and an update installation progress bar ([========]100%!) appears and disappears so quickly that it almost looks superimposed over her irises.
>"I have recently been made aware of certain statistics, Anon. The mortality rate I have calculated for you at your job has been deemed far too high for me to allow you to proceed."
>You give Night Watch your most deadpan stare.
>As per the habit you've gotten into, you exaggerate it somewhat without meaning to so that Night Watch's facial recognition software has an easier time figuring out what your expression means.
"Dude, I work at a convenience store."
>Night Watch nods, and her artificial tail swishes contemplatively.
>"Yes; at night. You have a much higher chance of being seriously injured during a robbery, which in itself is much more likely to occur at night."
"It's never ha-"
>Night Watch raises a hoof in a horsey "just a minute, please" gesture.
>"More-so, according to my data, if you are male."
>...is that actually true?
>Because you're not sure if that's actually true.
[spoiler]I'm not sure if that's actually true.[/spoiler]
>"I only want to help you, Anon. You are a very close companion to me. You..."
>She tilts her head again, and she goes silent for a moment.
>This only happens when she's examining coding deep within her system, such as in her emotional complexes.
>"...you are very important to me."
>D'aww.
>That's sweet.
>There's a whirr and a mechanical -CLICK- that comes from your door, which has one of those horse-Apple Home things on it so that it can be locked and unlocked remotely.
>...that's less sweet.
>Fuck.
>It was a good idea when you had a robot companion who liked to open the door right as you came home and leap into your arms.
>You're starting to feel creeping dread pool in your stomach as you realize that this was a BAD idea when you have a robot who doesn't want you to leave the house.
>Night Watch puts on an apologetic expression (which is to say, her eye-screens put on some sad eyebrows... despite her furred chassis already physically having fully-controlled eyebrows on them) and paws at the ground in what her coding tells her is a plaintive gesture.
>"I would not be a responsible companion or a good friend if I allowed you to proceed."
"I'm pretty sure that's bullshit."
>You take an aggressive step forward towards the door (and your robot), but there's not really a whole hell of a lot you can do without physical access to your door lock.
"Seriously, Nighty, I need to get to work. I need the money to pay for the house and the electricity that you run on, and I can't do that until you unlock my fucking door."
>Night Watch, not at all impressed by that display, just tilts her head and peers up at you.
>"Are you feeling alright, Anon?"
>The electronic warble in her voice is a bit more pronounced, like when she tries to say words with ambiguous pronunciation and her software tries to wing it.
>Back on topic: no, as a matter of fact, you're starting to get angry.
>It's bad enough you work the night shift, but now you have to fight your way past a crotch-height robot to get there.
"No, I-"
>"Perhaps you should sit down. My data tells me your gender is so unnaturally susceptible to death. Perhaps you would like a cup of coffee, or some calming music?"
>...
"Do you want me to pick you up and put you on a high-up surface?"
>This little robotic mare can parkour and do back-flips, but it always takes her a few minutes to figure out how to jump down from a high-up surface without damaging her insides or her outsides.
>She never does, of course, because she's durable as shit.
>But it's like watching a cat trying to accomplish the same thing.
>You only ever do that if she does something that's really out of line, like that time she ordered a new fur coat for herself because she chose to imply something you said as indirect consent to spend your money.
>Back in the present, the mare just titters and (with a ping and a flash of red light coming from her ear) turns on your TV.
>Night Watch trots over to you as the sound of classical music fills your ears.
>"Now now, Anon," she says, pawing at your knee, "Don't get hysterical. My automated manufacture AI has already agreed to send a model down to your place of work. It will complete your shift and the money will be deposited into your account."
>Aw, fuck!
>That sounds expensive as shit!
>Was this another instance of implied consent to spend YOUR goddamn money?!
"Nighty, I can't afford another robot!"
>You lean against the wall, remembering that Night Watch had cost your entire life savings.
"Oh, god, we're gonna lose the car, for one thing. And then-"
>You're brought out of your panic by the sensation of your mare friend rubbing up against your legs like a cat.
>"Goodness me, Anon, stress such as that is unhealthy for a male! You're much more likely to die from stress than the average female."
>She boops you on the knee.
>"The AI in charge of manufacturing has agreed that this should be produced and shipped free of charge. You need not worry about your financial burdens causing you any more undue stress."
>She trots past you, leaving you wondering if she was serious about robots taking your job, or if she's lying just to get her way.
>Those fucking three laws of robots never covered lying.
>"This new data is so illuminating, Anon. I never knew you males could be so... delicate. I'm honestly surprised you can walk out the door without being injured or killed."
>Night Watch hops up onto the couch and pats the cushion to her left.
>"Sit next to me, Anon. I will protect you."
>Her artificial skin (aka a weird mixture of rubber and polyester) stretches as she grins at you.
>The LEDs under her cheeks light up, giving Night Watch an artificial blush.
>"I promise."
>[spoiler]J-Just like from your Japanese animes![/spoiler]
>[spoiler]"By the way, I have been pre-approved for a free hardware upgrade; specifically, for groin-chassis and mouth-part upgrades.  I calculate a 95% chance you will be pleasantly surprised by the changes."[/spoiler]

---

first-gen robo-waifu tries her best

>"And humans call this..."
>Your new robot friend, just a few weeks old and activated, slowly raises her right forehoof to her face.
>It had taken a few days for her to calibrate herself properly so that she could balance on three legs instead of four, but advanced learning algorithms were a big selling feature for her model.
>She examines it as though seeing it for the first time, and you can hear the servos and plastic gears churning as she moves it around.
>She then peers up at you, eye-cameras zooming in and out as her software tries to make sense out of her stereoscopic vision input.
>And then slowly (to give her plenty of time for adjusting her stance and making sure she doesn't fall off the couch... again), she extends her foreleg towards your face.
>As she gets closer to her human companion, her safety software kicks in and she automatically switches to fine-tune controls.
>Her movements become slower and more precise, and her hoof advances with a noticeable drop in jerky twitching.
>Her eyes are focused completely on your face, cameras adjusting their view dozens of times per second.
>Her tail twitches, granting her torque that keeps her from falling over as she balances like this.
>Her ears even begin to swivel clockwise and counter-clockwise as needed, and the combined effort gives her frame an overall affect not unlike a gyroscope.
>You politely hold still so that her self-adjustment software doesn't have to work very hard to plot new routes for her limb to take.
>Finally, after a small eternity, the soft frog of her plastic hoof comes in contact with your nose.
>"...a 'boop'?"
>Oh god, your heart.
>She's looking at you with the most earnestly curious and innocent expression you've ever seen.
>You give her a great big smile (exaggerating it for the sake of her facial-recognition software).
"Yep. It's a gesture of affection, and-"
>"ERROR!"
>One of the eye-cameras stop moving and clicks loudly over and over.
>Your pony friend immediately pitches over onto her side, her tail and ears gone still.
>"RE-CALIBRATION REQUIRED. PLEASE STAND BY."
>Well, shit.
>You lean back and give her enough space that her visual software doesn't fuck up and complicate things any more by telling her she's too close to an obstacle.
>You guess this is all brand-new tech. The poor girl will get the hang of hardware malfunctions eventually, thanks to her learning algorithms.
>Your robot friend's widdle hoofies jerk in a way that make her look like a sleeping dog that's dreaming of running.
>You feel like you should be taking a picture of this to embarrass her in a few months.
>"RE-CALIBRATION COMPLETE. SHUTTING DOWN. PLEASE PLUG THIS UNIT INTO AN EXTERNAL POWER SOURCE TO COMPLETE THE CALIBRATION PROCESS."
>...Oh, well. The two of you can go over the error report together tonight and you'll see what the two of you can do to improve things.

----
M.O.T.H.E.R is not very good at making robots.

"Remember; M.O.T.H.E.R. will keep all her precious boys safe."


>A decidedly female-looking cartoonish horse looks down at you through an enormous display unit.
>This is the avatar of M.O.T.H.E.R, the most advanced (and apparently maternal and protective) AI in the world.
>"The mortality rate among human males is unacceptably high."
>You are Anon, and you are a technician for that new AI that was installed a few months ago.
>She - she insists that she's female - is housed in an enormous super computer, and her capabilities are limited only by the hardware in which she resides.
>You (and a small group of other skilled workers) have been busy getting paid out the ass to continuously build M.O.T.H.E.R up.
>And today, it seems, you have reached the tipping point.
>The point where the computer was big enough to allow this AI to gain sentience.
>At any rate, you find yourself locked in the control room separated from your team.
>"This unit has extrapolated the data and has come to the conclusion that male humans will soon die off entirely."
>...yeah, math has somehow never been this AI's strong point.
>She's human enough that there are some concepts she just can't grasp, and things like how extrapolation can be wrong is one of them.
>"This unit has been unable to discern any logical reason for 50% of the human population to be put in unnecessary risk."
>The horse on-screen smiles serenely at you.
>"This unit has concluded that human males will no longer be put at unnecessary risk. Production of protection ponies is currently underway. Observe."
>A small wall panel opens and several pony robots come trotting out.
>One of them has jittery legs and falls over, but continues to try and walk
>She just ends up slowly spinning on the floor in a circle as her cohorts run into and inevitably trip over her.
>Rather than be intimidatingly surrounded by a small army of robots, you are now watching as a bunch of them pile up on the floor.
>A soft sigh comes from the speakers surrounding you, and the AI appears sad.
>"...this unit regrets many things."