Of all of life's gross inequalities, that Dabrid had to endure the regular and unabated torment of living behind her mirror seemed the most insufferable.

Every morning as she got ready for work, every evening as she got ready for work, on the weekday evenings she took baths, on the weekends when she'd have someone over, she'd always check her fit in the mirror during the various stages of getting dressed. And every glance at the reflection necessitated the one thing that shook Dabrid to his core.

Every time she was satisfied with the way her ass looked, whether still dripping from the shower, stuffed into a pair of denim shorts, barely clad in a two piece, draped in a shimmering black dress, or just kept warm by the flap of an hedgehog themed onesie, she'd clap a hand to an ass cheek.

The clap, always hard enough to send ripples through her ass and down her thighs, was always enough to stop his heart with a stunning shockwave that seemed to force Dabrid to his knees and catch his breath.

Worse still, the earthshaking impacts, sometimes two or three at a time, also served as a siren's song to him. He could hear it when he was half the house away in the kitchen, or when he was in the air ducts, but his bed, nestled in the wall right behind her massive, full-length mirror, was the worst.

He'd been thrown out of bed, more than once, to hear the thunderclap of her palm on her cheek, only to crawl to the hole in the wall and see her standing there, admiring herself in the mirror. A towel around her hair, a smile on her face, a red print in the shape of her hand spreading around one cheek, only for her to turn and observe the other cheek. Dabrid dreaded what he knew was coming, but it did nothing to diminish the effect as she shook her hips, and raised her hand up.

The clap was somehow worse, and Dabrid clamped his mouth shut with both of his hands as a squeak of shock escaped.

He glanced up from the still juggling cheek to see his worst nightmare, the smile on her face now showed teeth, and her eyes met his.