Voice Acting Lines Mga Nobela at Kwento

There was a young voice o the other line; " Hello?" I froze. My palms became sweaty, I covered my mouth. Could it be? " I would like to speak to my dad, please yell him that it is hos son, James."

“Talk to me.” “Patience, Don Julio,” the same voice from before drawled, a disturbing hint of amusement lacing the words. “Your instructions are coming. Be ready.” And then, just like before, the line went dead, leaving me with nothing but the buzzing silence of the connection being severed.

___hi chloe it's me Amy. ____Amy is that you? The line was dead for a moment and I thought it had been dropped but then it came back and the voice I now hear was not chloe's anymore. ____amy my love are you? My world went down when I heard this voice because it was none other than the voice of Nicolas Montenegro.

I could fake moan on cue, breathe heavy at the right moments, describe exactly how I’d ride someone’s cock without ever feeling more than mild boredom. It honestly wasn’t a bad job. Some of the guys just wanted someone to talk to; some of them had very specific fantasies they wanted me to act out. It didn’t take long before his phone started ringing, I mocked it to my wireless air bud. I cleared my throat, which wasn’t even needed. The system has installed a voice changer in our phone, not only does it change our voice but makes the customer live deeper to avoid recognition outside work. I dropped into the chair, plugged in the earbuds, logged into James’s extension. The phone rang precisely

He was exploring his anger in another way. “You’re asking the wrong questions Mr. King,” the voice said and there was a bit of muffling in the other end and then a bit of heavy breathing. “Mummy-” Ava drained voice cried out and my hands clasped around my mouth as tears formed in my eyes. “Ava, Honey, can you hear me?” I asked all at once controlling the clogging in my throat. “Your mummy just wants to say hello darling, you dont have to worry okay?” The voice said but it was clear that it had been altered. Whoever was with Ava didnt want us to hear there original voice.

He stayed silent before the other line started ringing. Moments later, a deep and altered voice spoke. "Hello, Silvester," the voice uttered in a menacing tone. His eyebrows raised as he pressed record. "Who are you?" he asked and the voice laughed hysterically. "You already know who I am," the voice uttered before a glitchy sound was made. "How's the investigation of your wife's culprit?" the voice asked and he clenched his jaw before sitting down on his swivel chair. "No lead yet," he answered and the voice laughed.

It was Ricky. A sweet smile appeared on my face. Yet, I heard a robotic voice. “I am sorry. The number you dial is in the middle of a call. Please call again later.” After that, I switched to another language. “Sorry, the subscriber you dialed is busy now. Please redial later.” On the other side of the line, he said in a grievance, “Don’t you want to answer my call?” “I was just joking.” I cleared my throat and explained.

I was momentarily startled and held a breath. “You're a doctor…you're a doctor…” I chanted in a low voice, reminding myself that this wasn't just about my silly desires. “Ahem! Hello?” “Jessica,” Came that deep rumble from the other line, it was so fucking sexy and I blanked out for a few seconds. “I…yes, it's me,” I quickly recovered, mentally facepalming when I heard the sound of my squeaky voice. I heard his sharp intake of breath on the other line as my lips parted.

When out of nowhere came the voice on the line, with a gentle tone which contrasted starkly with the turmoil in me. "This is Mr. Arrow," she said, soft and melodious, with just a hint of professional touch. It was like warm summer breezes, soothing and calming but not alleviating the tightness that surrounded my heart. Shivers coursed through my spine, and I replied in a voice barely above whispering.

When I hung up I looked at the notification. Damien Voss. Voicemail. 7:12 PM. I sat for a moment. Then I pressed play. His voice was quiet. Not the press conference voice, not the Thursday at Two voice, not any of the performed versions I had catalogued over six years of marriage and five months of dismantling. Just his voice, stripped of its usual architecture, in the specific register of someone speaking into a recording without an audience to perform for.