We can ... sort of understand it. Many sexual fantasies involve elements of control, and who better to control than someone you hate? But the strange thing is that this isn't like Raiders of the Lost Ark turning Nazis into cartoonish enemies in 1981; these magazines came right after the war, when veterans were still nursing wounds. We don't know, it kind of seems too soon to be turning Hitler into a wank fetish. Yet, when Grandpa wanted to get freaky, Nazis were the port of call. They were essentially the era's equivalent of BDSM, commonly indulging in torturous shit you'd be hard-pressed to find in modern porn. Here's some swastika branding:

World of Men
"10 Ways to Tell if You're Sexually Maladjusted: 1-10, you paid money for this fucking magazine."

Here's another scene you probably won't find modern porn stars doing in a hurry, in the form of good old-fashioned waterwheel torture:

New Man
The self-test is just "Look in a mirror."

The typical elements that make up Nazi torture porn covers are threefold. You have the Nazis -- one grimacing henchman and a cackling commander. There's the ridiculously unerotic method of torture. And then there are the women themselves, who are always clearly in grave danger, yet seem only slightly miffed, like they're dreading sitting in the middle seat on an airplane.

Men Today
"This is bullshit. I'm not drowning next to that bitch Janice."

"Well, isn't this just a male rescue fantasy? Aren't the men supposed to get off on the idea of saving these curvy, grateful females?" If so, they certainly aren't promoting it on the cover -- there's no swashbuckling hero to save the day. Basically, the only thing these covers tell a boner-prone reader is that the magazine is all about the untimely death of several nubile ladies at the hands of the most evil men in the world.

Well, that, and tips on how to "master a woman for life" yourself. Somewhere, Don Draper is smiling.

Even if you manage to ignore the more disturbing connotations, any mental association with an actual baby should be a surefire way to kill any and all sexy vibes, as anyone who's ever heard one cry can attest. Yet in a crib these fine ladies remain, and that's all you're going to get, boner.

You can just imagine these models excitedly skipping into the studio, expecting a luxurious if slightly naughty shoot in racy nightwear, then having their jaws (and dreams) drop through the floor as the photographer unceremoniously grunts at them and points his thumb at the baby prison in the middle of the floor. To their credit, most models presented in this particular fashion look as bewildered and confused about the situation as the reader. When they seem at ease with their surroundings, it's somehow even worse:

Late Show
"Fall of the Latin Lover ... Also, Your Dignity"

Note to aspiring erotic models everywhere: Call it kinky subtext all you want, but things stop being sexy the second you bring actual baby gear into the mix. If you're dressed like you poop your pants on a bihourly basis, it doesn't matter how well you fill out your diaper.

Most sports can be classified as at least somewhat sexual, being activities that consist of sweaty people performing complex physical maneuvers and grunting a lot. However, when it comes to pure visual sexiness, fencing is at the absolute low end of the spectrum. The sport is essentially a bunch of crash test dummies poking each other with car antennas in a contest that demands clothing from head to toe.

Yet somehow, this sport with padded uniforms and skinny fake swords manages to rank as an old school smut trend.

Caper
"No, no, poke the sword lower ..."

Compared to the other women in this article, this model is practically a nun. That hip-hugging onesie might not be as practical as the full-body padding her fallen foe is wearing, but that badass glove looks like an eagle could perch on it at any moment. Barring any Freuds who wish to compare a long, pencil-thin weapon to a penis and mentions of "sympathetic geishas" and actress and glamour girl Ziva Rodann, you could almost believe this is not a dirty magazine. However, the same can't be said about this one:

Coq
Fucking rapier culture.

Man, that's totally going to be the name of our French subsidiary.

Carousels are the most boring part of carnivals, which in turn are decidedly the least sexy things in the entire world, what with all the puke and carnies and puke-covered carnies. Yet the people of olden times chose this extremely unsavory location as a prime spot for lady-part viewing. Over and over again:

Ace
Pictured: your grandma.

Is this a play on our expectations of the carousel as an innocent ride tainted by the depravity of a carefree gal in lingerie that was probably real sexy back in the day? Was this part of a larger shoot at the carnival? Are there shots of her caressing a wad of cotton candy somewhere out there?

Possibly! Or maybe the Golden Generation chose the least boner-inducing of all backgrounds for their nude-lady viewing in a desperate effort to contain their raging manliness, lest their erections grow a full mustache and ride off to a distant war.

Vue
"Damn it, man! Throw a math teacher cardigan on her before we all start smoking jazz cigarettes."

Dolls and stuffed animals are curious things that follow plenty of women well into adulthood. Many a full-grown lady still keeps a token plushie or 17 around, and that's completely fine, as long as the woman and her partner don't get squeamish over boning in front of the cold, dead button eyes of a dozen soulless animal totems. It's such a common thing that the occasional teddy bear often manages to sneak into naughty pictorials.

However, there are many sorts of toy animals. Some are all "awwwww"; others are more about "Aaaaargh it took my eye getitoff getitoff GETITOFF!!" Two guesses as to which ones porn photographers of the old times preferred:

Folies De Paris Et De Hollwood
This also counts as X-Files Rule 34.

Surely that's about as silly as it gets when it comes to children's toys and naked ladies. It's not as if they were decorating butts with Barbie dolls, right?

Rapture
Oh, goddammit.

Of course, soulless Disney World knockoffs and Barbies and Kens on their daily stroll at Gluteus Hills are what you get if you're lucky. If you're unlucky, you might get an actual, for-reals botched taxidermy job as a side for your boobie pics. Here's Jayne Mansfield with a stuffed tiger that is clearly inspecting your browser history:

Tiger Quarterly
What better way to honor the recently deceased Mansfield than with a spread containing a dead animal carcass?