Judge it yourself obviously

"I, uh, I am judging it myself," you manage to get out.

The lady just shrugs her shoulders. "Whatever, works for me. I'll get Hank to pull the table and stool out for you, I guess," she says before wandering off and leaving you bewildered and alone on stage.

After a while a slightly portly man drags over a table and stool and hands you a list of names and a pencil, "Here, you'll be needing these," before wandering off to whence he came, leaving you still just as confused but slightly more comfortable. Looking at the sheet you see that there are thirty contestants, although you don't recognize any of them except for two "Rachels."

After a little while of you reading over the names and looking around the room, a technician comes out and sets up a microphone on your table. Not long after, the doors open and people, almost exclusively men, file in and start getting seated. The noise is deafening and disorienting: all these people nannering on about the contest and the convention. You sit there realizing you hated public speaking in school and now you have to talk in front of all these people? You shrivel up in fear for a little while until eventually everyone is seated and you see that the time is just about right for the event to begin.

You can see people looking at you expectantly, all their eyes drilling into you, expecting things from you. Oh god, you are going to stutter so bad, you are fine with fucking women in public, but having to speak to a crowd... Then again you're so shriveled up down below from all the stares you are pretty sure you couldn't get it up if someone was sucking on it. You begin psyching yourself up to grab the microphone and welcome everyone to the cosplay contest, but right as you are about to get up and face your fear the woman from before walks past you scoops up the microphone and greets the crowd.

You are so distracted with the relief of not having to address the crowd you completely miss the introductions, and it's not until the first contestant gets on stage that you rouse yourself. You completely missed her name, but in front of you is a woman dressed as an angel with golden hair, fake wings, and a long diaphanous gown that comes down to her ankles, hiding her body. She is quite beautiful in a classical sense with sharp features and a modest chest. She walks over to you after doing a little routine in front of the audience and you realize you need to actually judge this woman.

Standing up you address her, "I love the costume, but I would like to see your breasts to properly judge you." She looks confused for a second before shrugging out of the top of her dress and letting her breasts spring out of the top of her dress with a little jiggle. She smiles at you and puffs her chest out. Reaching out you grasp both of them and give them a good firm squeeze before motioning to the back of the room. "Thank you, if you could wait along the back of the stage." To your surprise she doesn't pull her top back up, just keeps standing in the back with her tits on display.

You proceed like this for the rest of the people. They come up onto the stage, do a little demonstration of their costume and then come to you for "review." The costumes vary wildly, with a whole menagerie of space warriors and animals parade in front of you. You are surprised by the varieties of consistency of all these breasts you get to touch. Some are pillow soft, while others offer a surprising amount of resistance. As you progress all of Rachel's friends show up but, as the massive minotaur lady (who you now know is named Sam) informs you, her dress wasn't repaired in time so she had to drop out. She, of course, told you this while you were handling her more than ample assets. Her other friend, Ashley, who was covered in blue scales, you now know to be a gymnast or contortionist, judging by her impressive performance (although her breast inspection was a little lacking, and left blue sparkles on your hand).

You eventually have a bunch of topless women lined up against the back of the stage and it is finally time for you to hand out prizes. Looking at your notes and at all the people lined up you point to a woman wearing some very impressive space marine armor with a powered retracting canopy and lights all over. You couldn't actually fondle her without forcing her to dismantle most of her suit, but first place isn't what you really care about anyway. She squeals and runs up to you and vigorously shakes your hand until your assistant leads her away.

(I have Searcher0595's permission to duplicate his chapters here.)