Nick shoots his load and from outside of his cell he hears the guard snicker.
"Still dreamin' 'bout bein' a bear, eh Ryan?" the guard smiles in a cold way.
Nick snaps out of his fantasy, the one where he instantly changes into a muscle bear. He looks down at his 6'2", 135lbs, hairless, pushover body, a long limp cock in his hand. He'd been skinny all his life, it's why his buddies had chosen him for the bank job, he could squeeze through the small spaces they couldn't. It wasn't fair, all he'd done was rob the bank; it was Harry who'd killed the cops when the get away went sour, but the jury blamed him and three of his buddies for the dead man's murders anyway.
The guard, Johnson, is the man Nick wishes he could be. Work and gym built muscles that stretch his extra, extra large uniform to it's limits, a full salt and pepper beard and hair poking out everywhere his uniform doesn't cover.
Johnson unlocks Ryan's cell.
"OK, clean the spunk up and get to the showers, there's plenty of big hairy psychopaths in there to entertain ya." Johnson says.
Nick cleans his seed off the floor with some toilet paper and tosses it in the bowl. Johnson hurries the beanpole of a man to the showers.
On the way Johnson says quietly to Ryan, "Ya know, if ya want a reduced sentence, I hear there's a medical experiment program available for you lifers who qualify. Talk ta the warden about it next time he calls ya into his office." Johnson says and then adds, "You'd qualify, Hell, they took Cannibal Max. Yur just a bank robber and cop killer... don't see why they wouldn't take ya."
Nick gets to the showers. They aren't cold, but they're not steamy either. The prisoners make do on tepid water to clean themselves.