Biodroid Wench Sings = a poem to find if a tale will work

Soft silver and gold threads
amid the pale strands of silk
that formed the webs woven
by the lesser forms before
to hide the Mazetowns
from questing probes
as they passed.

But after we landed safely
(oh, that is a damned joke)
those webs changed a bit
mesmerizing our minds with patterns
that lured us inside
amid narrow alleys
for our rape.

The cables plunging into flesh
seeking nodes of nerves so raw
they exploded our very resistance
with one orgasm rolling  around
over and over again
wave after wave
So damned good.

Changes began even that moment
though few showed until later on
when our flesh took metallic hues
and the insect DNA
manifested on us
changing our forms.

Minds met minds in sex
then via these lovely damned antennae
formed from our very protective gear
as it bonded fast
becoming our skin
and our bones.

Now we stalk the weak
amid the alleys as Mazetowns form
everywhere, luring them in like us
some we consume raw
others we infect
while making love.

My eyes are manifold now
as we all become one purpose,
seeking quick reproduction and this bliss
never tasted by metal
until folding us
within its embrace.