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Breast Years of His Life
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In 1998 Maxim introduced Brian Zembic, the man who cashed in on a $100,000 dare by getting breast implants for a year. So, eight years later, how come he’s still got ’em?

Maxim, Sep 2005

When Brian Zembic first shows me his tits, we’re in his bedroom. Door closed. Curtains drawn. Lights off. Pitch black. Then he flicks a switch, and suddenly a pair of glowing pink orbs appear, hovering weirdly in the darkness.

“Look at these fucking things!” yells Zembic, who’s standing there topless, holding two flashlights beneath his breasts and looking down at the spectacle. “Don’t they look alien?”

They do. Eerily translucent and slightly hairy. They look like they might hatch. “Before I got them, I had no idea they glowed like this,” he continues. “Apparently, it doesn’t work with silicone. Only saline.”

Zembic, 44, has every reason to marvel at his tits. They have, after all, made him a legend. As constant companions, they entered his life when he and his friends—a motley rabble of wealthy Vegas gamblers who bet on pretty much anything—were discussing how nuts it was that their friend Martha, and for that matter women in general, went under the knife for a bigger rack. Were breasts really that important?

“I said, ‘Fuck, yeah! The only reason Martha gets attention is because she has boobs,’” recalls Zembic. “‘And if I had them, I’d get just as much attention. Even more. Because the whole world revolves around boobs.’”

So one of his pals, a high-stakes backgammon player, issued a put-your-money-where-your-mouth-is challenge. He said he’d give Zembic $100,000 if he got breast implants. At first Zembic hedged, but eventually a meeting was called—a “titty tribunal”—and the terms were set. Zembic would get the money if he lasted a year with the globes intact. All he had to do was pay for the surgery itself.

So he did. To everyone’s astonishment, he forked out a few grand for a pair of C-cups. That was in 1997. Eight years ago. When Titanic came out. Yet today he’s still got the tits.

“You know why? Because I can’t afford to have the damn things taken out!” He’s grinning. “No, seriously, it’s because I hate operations. That general anesthetic, it makes me so sick. And now I’ve had them in so long, there’s all this scar tissue underneath…”

Zembic drops his head in a rare moment of contemplation. “You know what? I can’t even remember what it’s like not having them. Is it really eight years? Shit. That’s nearly a fifth of my life. That’s a long time to have boobs.”

Brian Zembic is a unique and exceptional man—not so much because he’s got hooters, but because, on him, they seem almost incidental. He’s loud and manic, the center of attention. He’s a brilliant sleight-of-hand magician, constantly whipping out a deck of cards. He’s a Ping-Pong coach and world-class blackjack and backgammon player. Gambling has paid for everything he owns, including a beautiful four-bedroom home in Las Vegas with a yellow Hummer parked out front.

But his pals don’t call him the Wiz simply for his gambling and magic skills. The man with the mammaries also has an uncanny ability to get hot women giggling their way into the sack.

“It’s unbelievable,” says his friend Derek, a professional blackjack player. “It’s not as though he’s good-looking. But he gets away with murder. He gets them laughing, pulls a few cards out of their cleavage, and next thing you know he’s cupping their tits and they’re away.”

Zembic was always a tit man. “I was breast-fed until the age of six,” he kids. Having his own pair has done nothing to dilute his fetish. “I still live for nice breasts, even though my own don’t do anything for me,” he says. “That was my big worry about getting the implants: How the hell am I going to get some chi-chi? But, you know, I’m shocked—there’s never been a girl who hasn’t enjoyed them. The boobs help. Now if I think I have no shot with a girl, I use the boobs. If I had them removed, I’d be like, ‘Jesus Christ, how am I going to get a date now?’”

At first glance (long, disbelieving stare is more like it), it’s tough to imagine the breasts are such a chick magnet. They’re hairy, for starters. “I shave them when I have a date,” Zembic says. “I’m a gentleman like that.” So what’s the chick appeal? The curiosity factor? Or the fact that he’s a minor celebrity with a book—The Man With the $100,000 Breasts and Other Gambling Stories—named after his startling appendages? “A lot of things contribute,” he explains. “But I think it’s also because they’re all lesbians. I’m serious. They play around with them, they suck them, they rub theirs on mine. And they get to do all that without feeling like they’re lesbians.”

Does it feel good to have women sucking your tits?

“Not really, but I never had any feeling there before,” he says. “I just fake it to keep it going. It’s a turn-on for me to watch two girls. So when I’m with a girl, I pretend it’s not me and I’m on the outside, watching two lesbos going at it.”

In addition to fame and pseudo-lesbo action, Zembic’s jugs have brought him a small fortune. After the book came out, he appeared on The Man Show, The Howard Stern Radio Show, and Inside Edition, among others. He posed for both The Star newspaper and Helmut Newton. Then there were all the side bets. For example, a high-rolling pal gave him $2,000 to flash his tits in the middle of a casino. So far, he estimates, his snoobs have earned him about $270,000.

But it hasn’t all been cash and chicks. As any well-endowed woman will tell you, having a mondo rack has its disadvantages. To keep his gazongas hidden in public, Zembic has to dress a certain way—not in cleavage-enhancing bras, but spandex tops and billowy shirts. His outfits are odd—think hospital orderly—but he insists that’s not out of embarrassment. Pens in his shirt pocket chafe, and jogging’s painful without a sports bra. As for swimming or getting a tan, he hasn’t done either in eight years. And airport security is always treacherous.

“It’s embarrassing when they start pronging you right in front of everyone,” he says. “Once they back-roomed me. They looked at me like they thought I had a bomb. Luckily, I had the book with me, which explains everything. So now I always gotta pack that book when I fly.”

But these are minor irritations. In general, the boobs appear to have treated him well. Ironically, they’ve even kept him in shape. “I can’t put on weight, because then my boobs look like shit,” he says. “I want my boobs to look good, even if I’m the only one who sees them! Now I know why girls are always dieting. It’s for their boobs. I’m serious. I’ve got an insight into women now. Girls can relate to me, too. They talk to me the way they talk to gay guys. The only difference is, afterward, I try to bang ’em.”

The only time he feared his breasts might seriously backfire was with his ex-wife, the mother of his five-year-old daughter, Mika. When they were first dating, even having sex, he managed to keep them secret from her. “I thought she would freak out,” he says. “So I just kept pushing her away if she tried to touch me there. When I eventually told her [by handing her the book], she just cried. She was worried her parents wouldn’t accept me because they were traditional Chinese. But after an hour, she was over it and we were in the sack. We got married about six months afterward.”

Zembic’s in-laws eventually found out about his sweater meat through a TV show. “It was one of those ‘Will the real Brian Zembic stand up?’ things,” he says. “But even her parents accepted me in the end.” The reason he split from his wife wasn’t implant-related. He says it was because “she wanted to go gambling, and I wanted to stay home with Mika.” And, yes, little Mika knows all about Daddy’s hooters.

Perhaps most surprisingly, having breasts seems to have settled Zembic down. One might even suggest they’ve imparted a nesting instinct. Before the operation, Zembic frequently traveled across the country and Europe, outsmarting casinos at blackjack tables and nearly killing himself in a motorcycle crash in Spain. But since the breasts were installed, he’s become a stay-at-home dad who lounges about, playing online poker and coaching Ping-Pong. For a few grand, he’ll do the occasional magic show.

“I’ve got my savings,” says the ultimate Mr. Mom. “And I don’t want to risk that now that I’ve got Mika.”

Besides, the biggest payday may be on the horizon. There’s been talk of a Boob Man movie for six years now. The script’s finished and various actors have expressed interest, including David Duchovny, who joked that, to impress the Academy, he’d actually get implants for the part.

“I was done after a year, I wanted them out,” Zembic says. “But then every year when they renewed the rights, they kept saying, ‘Keep the tits so you can appear at the end of the movie. It’ll be really cool.’”

David Higgins, the producer, laughs. “I’m not insisting that he keep his implants in; it’s completely up to him,” he says. “It would be great for marketing, of course, but we can always find another way.”

The simple truth is that Zembic is attached to his tits.

“If I ever looked in the mirror and thought, What the fuck am I doing with these?, then I’d get them out,” he says. “But I’ve got to say, I like them. They’re mine, they’re me. What can I say?”

Nevertheless, the clock is ticking on the most famous knockers in gambling history. He recently accepted a bet from pal Michael Sall, a high-stakes gin player, that throws the future of his chest into question. Zembic groans just thinking about it. “I get $50,000 if I go to a D-cup, or $10,000 if I take them out. But I have to pay $20,000 if I leave them in.” He looks pained. “I’ve got till February…”

Brian’s Bizarre Bets
Whether making bets or taking them, Zembic has a history of cashing in.

Hand Maiden
“On a flight I bet a buddy $2,000 I could get a stranger to give me a hand job. I picked out a girl and approached her. When the movie comes on, my buddy looks over and sees a towel over me and her hand working away on me.”

Panty Run
“For $3,000 I ran a mile through the streets of Philly in only panties and a bra. If I got stopped by the cops and didn’t finish, I’d lose the $3,000, so I practiced the safest route all week. The cops didn’t bother me though.”

Marathon Man
“I bet poker champ Gus Hansen $10K he couldn’t beat the marathon record over 26 days. He had to run 16 100-meter dashes a day, at like, 16 seconds each. Gus is an athlete, but after a day he decided it was too hard and settled for $3K.”

Beer Frisbee
“How long do you think it takes to drink a professional Frisbee full of beer? People say, like, one or two minutes. So I bet them they can’t do it in 15 minutes. Try it. You can’t do it. You can fit about five cans of beer in there.”

Toilet Bowl
“Someone bet me $14,000 I couldn’t live in a bathroom for a month. The guy I bet had his buddies take horrible craps in the place. After six days they gave me $7,000 to stop the bet. No one thought I’d last that long.”

Man Made
Get beyond the breasts. This bionic man can be built today.

The “Dobelle Eye” uses a sub-miniature camera to signal electrodes on the visual cortex. The dot-matrix views of Pam Anderson’s rack aren’t perfect, but they’re no more artificial.

The titanium and polyurethane AbioCor replacement heart—first installed in 2001—withstands 100,000 beats a day, assuring a longer life than a pizza-eating machine like you deserves to have.

Your Little League coach was right. That weak-ass curve ball didn’t get you to the majors; it just fucked up your arm. The pain stops with a cobalt/chromium-alloy ball in a plastic socket.

Endolite’s first ever all-terrain dog comes with an e-carbon shock-absorbing heel, independent heel and toe springs, and split toe for navigating bumps. Almost makes losing a foot seem cool.

Hip replacement is funny! That is, until you tumble down some stairs and smash yours. Durable ceramic-on-metal joints help you walk, and feel better about getting screwed out of Social Security.

Sensors in Rheo Knee’s lower leg apparatus give feedback 1,000 times a second, allowing your hinge to react to any surface and giving you the last laugh on kneecap-smashing loan sharks.

Thanks to myoelectric systems, you can use an ErgoArm Elbow and SensorHand Speed from Germany’s Otto Bock HealthCare to unsnap any bra hook…or just rip it off with the patented AutoGrasp feature.

A skull-implanted chip, BrainGates has 100 electrodes that are linked to a computer, allowing owners to check e-mail or switch from ESPN to ESPN2 just by thinking about it.

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